Santa Clarita Diet Season 4

The Id

Sheila was in the basement with a rotted head on a vase discussing business. Abby was studying with a friend. No family dinner tonight, which was fortunate. Joel knew he would have to confront the issue eventually, but not tonight.

Joel realized this was one way his personality had changed. Before Sheila bit him, he would have worried about facing his daughter and admitting that two thirds of their household was officially a cluster bunch. And this prospect would have kept him nervous and yelling every other word until it came to pass.

But now the future didn't bother him. He was fed and hadn't thought too hard about that. He was warm and content. Everything was right with the world. Only the moment mattered and the moment was pretty awesome. Joel wasn't even high and he felt more at ease than he had in years.

His doorbell rang. It was Lisa.

"Hey, I think I left my casserole dish at your party yesterday," Lisa said. "Did you see it?"

Joel took her inside. "Sheila gathered all the dishware here," he said as he indicated the kitchen counter. "Any of that look familiar?"

Lisa bent over to reach a buried dish. As she did so, Joel admired the line where her glutes met her hamstrings. There was a distinct pop of muscle there.

"Have you been doing CrossFit?" Joel asked.

"Yeah, can you tell? Squats every day. I've been trying to get Sheila into it, but she'd rather go run in the desert lately."

"She's doing her own thing, that's for sure," Joel commented as he followed Lisa to the door. And past the door. She really had a great ass.

"Joel?"

"I'm sorry, I was just admiring your ass." The filter between Joel's brain and mouth had apparently been severed.

"I knew it!" Lisa exclaimed. "Sheila goes on about 'living your best life,' of course it's a dead bedroom and she's having an affair. No one's marriage is that good."

Joel didn't contradict her. Not on his porch. Not on his lawn. Not on her bed.