Ray: Wait. What's wrong with me being in this bathroom? What? Every time I spit on you, I wipe you off.
Debra: I know. I know that, and I appreciate it. It's just that there's always puddles of water on the floor after you shower, and you leave your wet towel on the tub. You use my roll-on deodorant. You take...
Ray: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I don't use your roll-on deodorant, okay? That goes against everything I stand for.
Debra: Ray, I found a hair.
Ray: All right, one time! One! One! One lousy swipe. That hair must have been very loose.
Debra: Okay. It's okay. I threw the whole thing out before it ever touched me.
Ray: Do I disgust you? I disgust you, don't I?
Debra: No! No, no. Not all the time. It's just that there's no room for my stuff. Do you know how much I would love to have a thing of Q-tips right here? Or have my curling iron always plugged in? Or my makeup laid out where I could see everything instead of stuffed in a box under the sink?