"Jeff, Who Lives at Home" is a well executed non-comedy that is mostly painful to sit through. The main character is a good-hearted slacker whose life is being ruined by his delusion that everything in life is meaningful; his older brother is an utterly self-absorbed ass who is so clueless that it is painful to hear him speak. Their mother is a decent, sane person who has had most of the joy sucked out of her life. By the time the movie is over, the mother is a bit happier, the older brother is slightly less of an ass, and Jeff has had his delusions confirmed, and is one step closer to being really crazy. The film has occasional moments of charm and real humor, but is mostly just dreary. Dementia liked it well enough; I am profoundly indifferent.
On Thursday I did this year's taxes. I suspect that I am very close to the point where I am no longer sane enough for this task. I did NOT seriously contemplate burning most of our possessions and killing Dementia and then myself, I just thought about it sort of wistfully. I REALLY hate doing the taxes.