I had Raziel write out his experience this morning.
The stairs have exactly eight steps when I required nine. The state of the kitchen is deplorable in my mind. I worry about infestations from outside or the children getting into something they should not. I worry that mold will grow and effect the air of the house which can lead to sickness.
There is no time to clean
-the dishes are overcrowding the sink, dirty and flecked-
I try to breathe and leave the room
-Lady getting sick. Lady not able to breathe due to her asthma-
I need to wash my hands. I need to go outside with my Lady.
There are only EIGHT stairs and I NEED nine. No, go out the door and be with Lady. I touch the door handle,
-my hands are disgusting I cannot touch anyone with these hands. Lady gets hit by a car. Car accident car accident car accident car accident car accident car accident car accident car accident car accident-
In and out of the front door, three steps forward and back again. Nine times.
Lady put the gloves on my filthy hands or else I cannot touch anything. I rest my head on Her shoulder and count the freckles on her face and arms. Listen to Her breathe and match my exhalations with Her own.  Raziel