Wash my hands. Don't wash your hands. If I don't wash them, I'll catch a virus and die. You already washed them, they're clean. Wash my hands. Don't wash your hands.

I can't do this, regardless of what Dr. Sommers thinks. You can do it, and you will. I've been doing these things for most of my life, there's no way I can stop it in one day. You've got to try, or you'll never stop. Why do I have to stop? Because it's unhealthy and you know it. I suppose I do….

Must wash the cereal bowl. The cereal bowl is clean. But there could be microbes on the surface that will make me sick. You know that's ridiculous. I know, but just to be safe I should wash it. No, you won't.

I'm never going to make it through the day; it's not even eight o'clock yet. You'll make it.

Must shower again. Don't shower again. I have to fold and unfold my underwear three times. No you don't. I have to walk around the bed before putting on my pants. Just put your pants on now. And I suppose you want me to button my shirt all at once, not wait four minutes between buttons? That's exactly what I want.

That wasn't so difficult; you're dressed and nothing bad happened. Not yet, but it's still early; I have too much time before work. You could watch television. But then I'd have to flip though all the channels once before deciding what to watch. Read the newspaper? Do you know how many times I'll have to wash my hands if I do that?

Why don't you just leave for work now? I'll be early! So, the idea of this exercise is to break your routines. Fine, we'll leave, and I suppose I'll have to leave my Windex here. Yes, I'm sure your car windows did not get that dirty overnight.

I can't believe I'm outside so early. And you only need to lock the door once, not lock it and unlock it multiple times. But somebody may break in, I have to make sure it's locked. It's locked, you just locked it, that's all you need to do.

Can I at least check to see if I remembered my wallet? As long as you just do it once. One check. Is it there? Yes. Let's go. Maybe I should check my wallet again. No, it's there, you know it's there, it's hasn't gone anywhere in two seconds, now let's go to the car.

I'm just unlocking the door and getting inside. Great, you're making progress. Wish I had my paper towels to grab the seatbelt. Use you're hands, it's clean. But if I put the belt on wrong, I may smash through the windshield if a car hits me from behind. Nobody's going to hit you from behind– besides, the car will let you know if the seatbelt is not secure.

I need to run the car for ten minutes. No you don't, just back out now. After I adjust my mirrors. No, they were fine yesterday, they'll be fine now. I'm still going to back out slowly. Fine.

It's so strange leaving at this time, all the cars on the road are different. That doesn't matter, you're still going to the same place. But I'll throw off the other drivers and cause an accident. No you won't.

The light is red and there's nobody at the stop line before me, but I still need to stay two car lengths from the stop line. No you don't; that's why the stop line is there, to stop. But I may hit somebody in the crosswalk. There's quite a distance between the stop line and the crosswalk; besides, nobody's crossing the street right now. Then they may come running out of nowhere. They won't. I wish I had such confidence. You will.

The light is green; I must look from right to left six times before I proceed. You just need to do it once, the intersecting street has a red light now. Fine: left, right. Go! I'm going!

What was that? Something hit us; a car ran the red light! I told you this would happen! Pay attention, we're being pushed onto the sidewalk. There are people there. We aren't going to hit them. I can't believe you anymore… if I had looked six times, I would have seen the car coming… I knew something bad was going to happen… I knew it.

I must get out of the car, but the door is crumpled into the seatbelt release. I can't escape.

People outside asking if I'm okay, I can't make eye contact with them or something else bad will happen, I know it. They want me to unlock the passenger side so they can help me. No. I can't open that door and let them in—those strangers and all their germs.

Why can't they just leave me alone? Why can't everybody leave me alone?