Sunday Morning Laundry

Eyes open. The alarm on the cell phone is going off next to my pillowed head. Why did I set it last night? It’s Sunday, no classes to teach, no places to go. All I have to do is laundry and make lesson plans for the week. Oh hell, I have to do laundry. That’s why I set the alarm last night. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Get up, Adrian, you’ve got to do laundry before the rain comes in the afternoon. Maybe it won’t rain today? No, there’s a reason why they call it the rainy season. It rains every day. Got to do laundry now. You wait too long to do it, it’ll only have an hour or so to dry. It’ll still be wet tomorrow, and will smell for the rest of the week. Sit up. Scratch my head and look at my legs and arms. No bug bites? Good. How about the neck and torso? None there either. Mosquito net must be doing its job. These days, though, it’s the little black flea like bugs that’ll get into bed with me when I least expect it. I think they’re attracted to the white sheets. Lift up the mosquito net and crawl under it.

Feet hit the floor. Roll up the net today? No, just tuck it in under the mattress to make sure nothing gets in. Open the window and let in the damp morning air. The sun’s beginning to get up as well. Another couple of hours and the heat will be good enough to dry all my clothes out on the line. Breakfast? I’ll get it later when I’m done from that café down the street. Queet tio chia muy café dtuck dah go dah gah, my favorite kind of breakfast. Chinese noodle soup mixed with beef, with iced coffee and condensed sterilized milk to drink. That’ll be good. The girls who work there are pretty friendly as well.

Got to get started. Walk to the bathroom and open to the door. Stand with two feet apart above the porcelain Turkish toilet. Pee. Flush it with two scoopfuls of water from the reservoir. Ants are crawling in and out of one of the cracks in the wall. They just don’t know when to take a hint. Poison them with the promethren that’s tucked away in the medical kit? Wait, another spider has created a web nearby. I’ll leave the ants to them. I’ll have my breakfast and they’ll have theirs.

Open the door of the bathroom. Grab the two plastic basins resting against the wall. Set them down on the floor, and pour water into each of them. Get the detergent and pour it into one of the basins. Keep the other one for rinse water. Bring over my dirty clothes and the plastic chair that sits in front of my desk. Put on the rubber gloves I bought at Lucky Mart. The detergent will kill my hands if I let it. Too many other health concerns just from living here Better prevent one if I can.

Pick up a t-shirt. It smells god-awful. Probably one that used for biking this past week when I got caught in the rain. Dunk it into the soapy water, and get it nice and wet. With one hand over the other and the fabric in between, start scrubbing vigorously back and forth. Get the collar, then the armpits, then anywhere else that has a stain. If needed, use a sprinkle more of detergent. My host sister in Kampong taught me how to do this, though if she were here she’d give me a heap of trouble about the way that I’m scrubbing. She was never satisfied with my laundry skills, no matter how hard I tried. Can’t a barang get a break? Never.

Take the t-shirt and wring it out. Make sure all the soap gets out of there. Dunk it unto the rinse water once, twice, three times. Wring it out again, and throw it on the tiled floor of the bathroom. Just washed the floor yesterday, so it’s okay to put the finished product over there. Another t-shirt, pair of underwear, same process. Pair of white socks. Why did I ever bring a pair of white socks with me to Cambodia? I can never get the stains out of them. I swear I’ve worked fifteen minutes on the underside of a sock once, and still couldn’t get the dirt out of it. Pair of pants, and its time to use the brush. Grab the plastic handle and scrub the lining, the rear, and the cuffs. Try to get the mud stains out as much as possible. Dunk it into the soapy water a few times and inspect it to make sure that there isn’t a stain I’ve missed.

Two more pairs of pants, underwear, and shirts and I’m done. Pick up the finished laundry pile from the floor and bring it outside quickly because it’s dripping all over me. Look at the line. Damn. All the space has been taken. Take my metal clothes rack, put everything hanging on it on the bed, and bring it outside. Take all the clothes that are wet, and put them on the rack outside in the blazing sun. Host mother is laughing at me, and though I don’t understand her I imagine that what she’s saying is some opprobrious remark. I laugh with her, sardonically. Should have looked to see if the line was full before getting started, but I’ve got no other time to do this other than now. In any case, I can bring the clothes inside in a hurry if it starts to pour. You can never tell when that’s going to be during the day, but it always happens.

Take the used water and pour it outside. Mop up the bathroom floor a bit, and make sure its clean. Change into more respectable clothes, and grab the wallet, watch, keys, cell phone, malaria pills, and a book to read over breakfast. Lock up, and head out. Exhausted, and its only 7 AM.

What did Culture Shock!:Cambodia have to say about this place? “With its incredibly cheap cost of living, Cambodia is an easy place for the less than well-heeled, underachieving, disillusioned Western male to hang out.” (96) Maybe for the less than well-heeled, underachieving, disillusioned western male this is easy, but these people probably have washing machines.