(Starts to clean up table) That's something, isn't it, Olive. They think we're lucky. They think we're enjoying this. They don't know, Olive. They don't know what it's like.

(Flat and cold) I'd be immensely grateful to you, Florence, if you didn't clean up just now.

(Still cleaning up) It's only a few things . . . Can you imagine they actually envy us.

Florence, leave everything alone. I'm not through dirtying up for the night.

It's just a few dishes. You want me to leave them here all night?

I don't care if you have them cleaned by your dentist. But don't make me feel guilty about it.

I'm not asking you to do it.

That's why you make me feel guilty. You're always in my bathroom hanging up my towels. Whenever someone smokes, you follow them around with an ashtray. Last night I found you washing the kitchen floor, shaking your head and moaning, "Footprints! Footprints!' . . .

I didn't say they were yours.

Well, they were mine, dammit. I have feet and they make prints. What did you want me to do, climb across the cabinets?

No. I want you to walk on the floor. (She crosses to clean the telephone)

Can I? Oh, that's wonderful. (FLORENCE cleans the phone with a rag and then cleans the wire as well.)

I'm just trying to keep the place liveable. I don't want to irritate you.

Then don't wipe the telephone. Some of my favorite fingerprints are on that telephone.

(Looks at OLIVE, puts down cloth and sits in a chair self-pity is coming on) . . . I was wondering how long it would take.

How long what would take?

Before I got on your nerves.

I didn't say you got on my nerves.

Well, it's the same thing. You said I irritated you,

You said you irritated me. I didn't say it.

Then what did you say?

I don't know what I said. What's the difference what I said?

It doesn't make any difference. I was just repeating what I thought you said.

(Angrily) Well, don't repeat what you thought I said. Repeat what I SAID . . . My God, that's irritating.

(Picks up a cup, paces) I'm sorry. Forgive me, Olive. I don't know what's wrong with me.

And don't pout. If you want to fight, we'll fight. But don't pout. Fighting I win, pouting you win.

You're right. Everything you say about me is absolutely right.

(Getting angry) And don't give in so easily, I'm not always right. Sometimes you're right.

You're right. I do that. I always figure I'm in the wrong.

Only this time you are wrong and I'm right.

Oh, leave me alone.

And don't sulk, That's the same as pouting.

I know, I know, (She squeezes cup with anger.) Damn me! Why can't I do one lousy thing right? (She suddenly cocks her arm back angrily about to hurl the cup against the wall, then thinks better of it and stops herself.)

(Watches this) Why didn't you throw it?

I almost did. I get so insane with myself sometimes.

Then why didn't you throw the cup?

Because I'm trying to control myself.

Why?

What do you mean, why?

Why do you have to control yourself? You're angry, you felt like throwing the cup, why don't you throw it?

Because there's no point to it. I'd still be angry and I'd have a broken cup.

How do you know how you'd feel? Maybe you'd feel wonderful. Why do you have to control every single thought in your head? Why don't you let loose once in your life? Do something that you feel like doing and not what you're supposed to do . . . Stop keeping books. Relax! Get drunk Get angry! . . . C'mon! BREAK THE GODDAM CUP (FLORENCE suddenly gets a surge of anger, faces the wall and with all her might, throws the cup against the wall. It smashes to bits. She suddenly grabs her arm in pain.)

Ohh, my arm! I hurt my arm! (She is in agony)

(Throws up her hands) You're hopeless You're a hopeless mental case!

I'm not supposed to use this arm. I have bursitis. (She rubs it)

You're not going to cry, are you? I think all those tears dripping on the arm is what gave you bursitis. (Throws her a napkin) You know what you are, Florence? You're a human accident.

(Dabs at knee) Uh huh. Who just happens to cook and clean and take care of this house. I save us a lot of money, don't I?

Thank you, Paine Webber.

(Limps over to table and puts broken pieces of cup on tray) Okay, I may be compulsive but I'm not a grouch. We have our good times too, don't we?

Good times?? . . . Florence, getting a clear picture on Channel Two is not my idea of whoopee,

What are you talking about?

I've spent enough nights watching you put paper strips between your toes. The night was made for better things.

Like what?

Like the smell of a good cigar circling under my nose. Listen to me good. There are two sexes in this world. We're one of them. I didn't make this up, but nature demands that our sex sometimes has to get in touch with their sex.

You mean men?

If you want to give it a name, alright. Men!

That's funny. I haven't thought about men in weeks.

I fail to see the humor.

You think I don't find men attractive? I find plenty of men attractive.

Like who? Name One.

I always thought Adlai Stevenson was attractive.