Back from a weekend of fun and sun in Puerto Rico, we return to the place where fun and sun collectively fear to tread -- where fun and sun hide in the house, lurk untouched in shadowy corners, sleep in coffins, and can't even go outside to play on snow days because there's so much damn snow piled up in front of where the door to the outside used to be. And so there are vast quantities of neither fun nor sun to be found in the firehouse today, as we join Jason lying on his bed, smoking moodily, his stank white wifebeater revealing a large patch of abdomen in the general area of his non-abs, telling Kameelah, "She's uprooting her entire life in Boulder to come and fly out here and move all her possessions out here to be next to me." Cut to a confessional, where he sics the place up a bit, "I do look forward for Timber to come here. I'm scared. I mean, I'm nervous a little bit." Oh, God. Timber's back. And she's coming to live in Boston? Have we heard nothing of this previously? An unsolicited confessional from relationship-expert-extraordinaire Montana fleshes things out further: "Jason even told Timber, 'Don't come,' and she said, 'You know what? I'm coming anyway.'" Wow. This bodes especially well, then. A quick shot of most of the Somber Seven in the living room sees Elka asking, "Are you in love with her?" Jason, twitching nervously as if experiencing sympathy withdrawal for Timber and her inability to access her killer meds and other controlled substances while her plane to Boston is in flight, responds, "Apparently so. Look at me, I'm a [word deleted] psycho right now!" I think the deleted word was "Timber-esque." What do you think?

Over at Emotional Manipulation International Airport, a stock footage plane about which we're supposed to take a rather substantial cognitive leap by placing Timber inside (Can't be Logan. The sky is blue) flies into Boston airspace. Jason voice-overs, "We spent two months apart from one another, and that's never happened. I was pathetically obsessed all day long with being near her." He walks around the terminal aimlessly, clearly forgetting the amount of time it takes the average traveler to claim his or her baggage, particularly when that baggage is of the hefty and emotional variety. And the hospital pole on wheels connected to the IV drip of lithium is always the last item to come out onto that turny carousel thing. So then that's even more of a delay. Jason spots Timber in a corner of the baggage claim and hugs her big, saying, "Baby, you didn't call me with your flight number!" She tearfully responds in her patented back-of-the-throat whine, "Yes, I did. Yes, I did." He kisses her forehead and tries that ol' time-tested excuse, "I didn't get it. I was upstairs." Oh, "upstairs." Where telecommunication technology has yet to be invented, clearly.