It's dangerous to be a marriage counselor. In graduate school, no one warned you about the occupational hazzards ... neurotic housewives, inbred households, children with a high propensity to be the next serial killer. Dr. Earl Simkins once cared. He even took notes and nodded his head. These days, the only notes he takes are mental notes about where to eat lunch. He passes the time thinking all the things he wishes he could say but it would cost him paying clients. Twice divorced, his own love life is far from ideal. Ex-wives, former girlfriends, bar buddies. None would really qualify as a friend. Most wouldn't even know if he were dead or not. Did he set out to be this way? It's only when his elderly mother requires his attention that he is forced to deal with what he has become.