With their options dwindling and their paranoia rising, Joel and Sheila consider making a move. Eric and Abby come up with a fracking good plan.

Eric's having girl problems, Abby's rage is showing, there's a talking head in the basement, and now -- sheesh -- the neighbor wants lasagna.

Joel and Sheila learn that the clampocalypse may hit sooner than they thought. Anne accepts constructive criticism like a pro.

After an old nemesis asks for a favor, Joel and Sheila find themselves neck deep in Nazis, raffle tickets and surprisingly stunning woodwork.

Eager to secure a lucrative new listing, Joel and Sheila brainstorm how to knock rival realtors out of contention ... without resorting to murder.

Is a colonel the clam connection? Joel’s on a stakeout to find out. Also, Abby has a date, and Sheila doesn't see eye to eye with her boss.

007, he ain’t. Eric’s plan to go undercover as a seafood distributor hits a snag. Meanwhile, Joel and Sheila worry Abby is getting out of control.

OK, let’s see here: Joel’s stuck in an asylum, Sheila’s chained to a pole, and Abby’s on the hunt for Serbian bile. Yep, sounds about right.

A snarky online review comes back to haunt Joel. Meanwhile, Sheila's new friendship proves problematic, and Abby leans into her new persona.

Sheila and Joel piece together the previous night's events while dealing with a professional setback. Abby gets a bold new look, courtesy of Lisa.