It’s been a busy day for me...
On Saturdays, I try to do most of my washing, having to do one piece at a time in my plastic 3-gallon wash pail. I’d first fill the pail with hot water, one cup at a time, from my little sink. Next, I’d add some powdered detergent. It’s a bargain brand which is sold in the prison’s commissary. Of no surprise, it’s made in China. Everything seems to be made in China nowadays, including my soap powder.
Once the pail is filled with water, I will let that particular item soak for a while before starting to splash it up and down. I’d twirl it in different directions, as well, in order to loosen any dirt that’s in the fibers.
Afterwards, I would remove the item from the pail and place it inside the sink, where I would rinse it until all the detergent is gone. I’d then wring it out as best I can, using my hands to squeeze and twist the excess water out of it. It’s a laborious process, actually.
But once the wringing is done, I’d hang the still wet item on my clothesline. The line, which spans from the back of my cell to the front, is held up by small hooks. It consists of ordinary black boot laces that I tied together. Yes, boot laces. We’re not permitted to have an actual clothesline. So in here, one learns to improvise, and to make do, using what he can.
Once on my line, I will allow each item to drip-dry, and air dry. I don’t have an actual dryer. Well, let me say, I’m the clothes dryer. I’m the washing machine, as well. Nothing but manpower in this place.
D.B.
Once the pail is filled with water, I will let that particular item soak for a while before starting to splash it up and down. I’d twirl it in different directions, as well, in order to loosen any dirt that’s in the fibers.
Afterwards, I would remove the item from the pail and place it inside the sink, where I would rinse it until all the detergent is gone. I’d then wring it out as best I can, using my hands to squeeze and twist the excess water out of it. It’s a laborious process, actually.
But once the wringing is done, I’d hang the still wet item on my clothesline. The line, which spans from the back of my cell to the front, is held up by small hooks. It consists of ordinary black boot laces that I tied together. Yes, boot laces. We’re not permitted to have an actual clothesline. So in here, one learns to improvise, and to make do, using what he can.
Once on my line, I will allow each item to drip-dry, and air dry. I don’t have an actual dryer. Well, let me say, I’m the clothes dryer. I’m the washing machine, as well. Nothing but manpower in this place.
D.B.
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