Ray: Hi, honey.
Debra: Hi.
Ray: Let me get that for you.
Debra: It's okay, I got it.
Ray: No, I wanna put that away for you.
Debra: What's wrong with you?
Ray: I wanna help out around here. Let me put the laundry away! Where does it go?

Debra: What's the matter with you?
Ray: Oh, nothing, just trying to pitch in, that's all. How are you?
Debra: What?
Ray: [close talk] How are you? That's nice, huh?
Debra: It smells minty. Trying to prove to me you haven't been drinking?

Ray: Look, you don't have to hide your feelings. I know why you cry.
Debra: What are you talking about? Were you watching me today?
Ray: Look, it's okay.
Debra: Oh my God, Ray, I tell you I need privacy so you spy on me?
Ray: It's not spying if you love the person.
Debra: That's what Peeping Toms say.

Ray: Look, that's not the point. You- You regret your life with me.
Debra: I do not.
Ray: Oh, don't insult me, okay? Come on, we both know that I'm lazy, I don't help out with the kids and until recently my breath has been questionable.
Debra: You know, now I almost hope you've been drinking.
Ray: Come on, look, I'm trying to make an effort here.
Debra: Yeah? Why don't you try not spying on me?
Ray: If you thought I was a better husband, I wouldn't have to spy on you.

Ray: Look, I I just don't like you crying.
Debra: Ray, listen. Here, come here. Just sit down, okay? I just I don't know how I can explain this to you. I want you to understand, but I just like doing it. It makes me feel good.
Ray: [skeptical] Okay.
Debra: What, haven't you ever just felt like crying?
Ray: Yeah, when something happens, you know, when I slam my finger in a car door. I mean, I'm a human being, but I don't like to cry. I don't schedule time to cry.
Debra: Maybe you should. Maybe that would be good for you.
Ray: Oh, I'll get my calendar and put teardrops on Wednesday.

Debra: Okay. How about the time you were in the fifth grade and you came home, you found out your parents gave your dog away?
Ray: That's not funny.
Debra: How did that make you feel?
Ray: Shut up.
Debra: Uh-huh. How'd you feel about that, Ray, huh? What was your dog's name? Shamsky Number One, wasn't it? They gave your dog away.
Ray: [mock wails]
Debra: You-
Ray: Aha! Come on! Okay! If you if you hit me, I'll cry if you hit me.

Ray: Ah!
Debra: Ray! I'm in here!
Ray: I forgot deodorant.
Debra: Get out!
Ray: What is that?
Debra: Out!
Ray: You have a mustache.
Debra: Out!
Ray: Sorry, sir!