Jill: I don't really have that much to talk about.
Dr. Breen: Oh, that's OK. Why don't you just tell me a little about yourself.
Jill: Oh, oh, OK. Um... [clears throat] Well, I just hit 40, and I'm trying to jumpstart a new career, and I don't know which I'll get first, my diploma or menopause. [nervous chuckle] On top of that, I have three sons, each of whom is the center of his own universe. Brad has started driving, which is keeping me up worrying half the night, Randy has started questioning everything his father and I stand for, and Mark - he's the youngest one - wears only black and is possibly worshiping the devil.
Dr. Breen: Well, Jill...
Jill: No, no, there's more, there's more. You see, I am completely overwhelmed. My father died about six months ago, and I've been trying to help my mother long distance which is not working at all. And I'm running a house, going to school and leading my own counseling groups. I'm having some people over for dinner tonight and I have no idea what I'm going to make them. She likes fish, he likes chicken. Not that it matters because when I cook, you know, it all tastes the same.

Jill: Yeah, well this is only about ten percent of my problems. The other 90 percent... I'm married, too. You see, my husband, he's going through this sort of midlife crisis thing, you know, "Who am I? Where am I? Should I grow a beard? Should I buy a hunting lodge?" And then... And then... And then today, Brad spilled a soda on my paper, Mark's asking for skulls, and before I knew it, I was asking my husband to start construction on an office.
Dr. Breen: What's- What's wrong with your husband building you an office?
Jill: I'm married to Tim Taylor.
Dr. Breen: Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor?
Jill: Yeah, and maybe you'd better switch to a tape recorder here.
Dr. Breen: I hope I have enough batteries.

Tim: You say your life's chaotic, you want to simplify it? Well, stop having the stupid dinner parties.
Jill: This is the first dinner party we've had in six months. I haven't had time because of all of school.
Tim: Well, you want to streamline? Quit school!
Jill: Just so you can build the office?
Tim: Yes!
Jill: If I quit school, I don't need an office!
Tim: Don't use all that fancy psychological stuff with me.

Tim: Hi, Wilson.
Wilson: Well, hi-ho, neighbor. So, how's Jill's office coming?
Tim: Come and gone. She backed out right after she saw her shrink.
Wilson: Whoa. So you were destroyed by Freud.
Tim: I guess you could say that. Yeah.
Wilson: Hung by Jung.
Tim: Yeah.
Wilson: Brought to a halt by Gestalt.

Wilson: Tim, you growing a beard?
Tim: What do you think?
Wilson: Well, I'm not sure. I could never understand why a man would want to hide his face.

Tim: [grunts] Hey. Oh, oh! I've dreamed about this day since the moment I met you.
Jill: We didn't have an attic the day we met.
Tim: Which makes the dream all that more significant. You're not toying with me, are you?
Jill: No. On one condition. You keep it simple.
Tim: You want simple you got your man.

Jill: But, you know, right now, Patty and Doug are coming over for dinner and I really need your help.
Tim: Forget it. I can't be around people after I've been fired off a job.
Jill: Tim, you're my husband, not my contractor.
Tim: For a brief, fleeting moment, I was both.

Tim: I'm being selfish.
Wilson: No, no, no. I'm thinking that you remind me of one of my great heroes.
Tim: Yeah?
Wilson: Jefferson.
Tim: He was one of my heroes.
Wilson: Oh?
Tim: When that guy started, he had one dry cleaner. Next thing he was moving on up.
Wilson: I'm confused.
Tim: George Jefferson. His wife's name was Weezie.

Wilson: No, no, no, Tim. I'm talking about Thomas Jefferson. You know, he was a man that needed to work with his hands. When he was home at Monticello, he would lose himself building his house, tending his garden, and it was while doing these simple hands-on tasks, that Jefferson saw his life more clearly.
Tim: Hey, wow. I am like Jefferson.
Wilson: Mm-hm.
Tim: When I'm swinging the hammer, that's when I see and think the clearest.
Wilson: So that's probably why building Jill's office was so important to you.
Tim: I never really thought of it that way. Thanks, Wilson.

Jill: No. No, no. I, I really don't want to be so isolated from everybody and, you know, when I get my office someday, I'm gonna need it to be a place where I can have patients can come, and we can't have people traipsing through the house.
Tim: Problem solved. I'll build a stairway on the outside of the house up to the...
Jill: No, Tim, you're not listening to me. You're not listening. I don't want a staircase on the outside. I don't want an office in the attic.
Tim: What are you saying?
Jill: [shouts] I don't want an office in the attic!
Tim: Sheesh. I'm getting the idea you don't want me to build this thing. And I asked you not to toy with me.
Jill: Yeah.
Tim: I begged you not to toy with me, and yet, you toyed.
Jill: I know. I made a mistake. [Tim groans] A mistake I'm very sorry for and will obviously never hear the end of, I'm sure.