"You’ve told this amazing story about Gilda, about how she came to your house to observe you and your husband living. What was she trying to learn?"

Michael Schulman asks, interviewing Jane Curtin (in The New Yorker):

CURTIN: She just wanted to see what it was like.

SHULMAN: To be married? To be normal?

CURTIN: Just to live. “What is your day like?” So she came over in the morning, and she sat on the sofa. And we went about our business. She drank coffee. I think she actually walked the dog at one point.

SHULMAN: What did you do?

CURTIN: I did laundry. Patrick was working in the office. We made lunch. It was just a day.

SHULMAN: Do you think she was really that mystified by normal people?

CURTIN: To a certain degree, yeah, because she wanted a relationship so badly, and she didn’t like being alone. But she hadn’t been very successful at it. She just didn’t know how you could be in a relationship with somebody if you didn’t work at it all the time.... She was very much of this world, but she skipped through this world, because her energy was just constant—until she got sick. When she was feeling good, no one felt better, and it was hopeful and funny and fun. It wasn’t a bipolar thing—she didn’t crash. But she could turn it up, and she could sort of temper it. She would tap-dance for hours and hours, just trying to get rid of some of the energy.

Of course, Gilda Radner went on to marry Gene Wilder, and, as Curtin puts it, "She finally found someone that she could be with."