Our life is on paper

Boris: I'm dying!
Jessica: Should I call an ambulance?
Boris: No! No, not now! No, not tonight! I mean, eventually!
Jessica: Boris, everybody dies.
Boris: It's unacceptable!
Jessica: Your panic attacks are getting more frequent and more intense. You have to go back on your medicine.
Boris: I'm not going back on my [bad word] medicine. I won't have my mind befuddled by chemicals, when I'm the only one who sees the whole picture for exactly what it is. Where's the [bad word] vodka?
Jessica: Boris, I have clients to see tomorrow morning. It is 4:00 a.m.!
Boris: Clients. Right. Wealthy bankers. To design their chic apartment, to fill it full of art and expensive possessions, so they can flaunt their money and be in the top 1% of this shameful, violent, prejudiced, illiterate, ually repressed, self-righteous nation!
Jessica: Christ, it is 4:00 a.m. Can you spare me this sophomoric tirade!
Boris: I'm a man with a huge worldview. I'm surrounded by microbes!
Jessica: And what about me? I a microbe? ls our son at Yale a microbe?
Boris: Let's face it, Jessica, okay? Our marriage hasn't been a garden of roses. Botanically speaking, you're more of a Venus flytrap.
Jessica: You are a very difficult man to live with.
Boris: Is that why you had an affeir?
Jessica: I didn't have an affeir. lt was a brief interlude of infidelity, and it happened years ago. You still can't forget it!
Boris: I see everything so clearly now. Everything! I married you for all the wrong reasons.
Jessica: What's that supposed to mean?
Boris: You're brilliant. I wanted someone to talk to. You loved classical music, you loved art, you loved literature. You loved ! You loved me.
Jessica: Those sound like pretty good reasons to me!
Boris: Yes! Exactly! That's the problem! That's the problem! lt was rational, it made sense!
Jessica: I don't know what went wrong. When you examine it, here is so much right about us.
Boris: On paper we're ideal. But life isn't on paper.
Jessica: Boris? Boris, what are you doing? Close the window!