Save money and get a workout by washing your clothes using two buckets and a broomstick. Standard contractor buckets work best, as does a long, strong stick that has no sharp ends.
Cut four roughly inch-wide (~3 cm) holes in the bottom of the first bucket - to help drain water later. Fill the second, intact bucket halfway with soiled laundry, add about three tablespoons (~45 ml) of detergent, then add the rest of your dirty clothes. Pour in lukewarm water until it reaches no more than six inches (~15 mm) below the top of the bucket.
Using the broom handle, gently push the laundry downward against the far side of the bucket, using a foot or ledge to stop it from moving around, if necessary. Rotate (agitate) your clothing this way until the water looks oily, and brown. Then, take both buckets to a bathing area, place the intact bucket on the floor of your tub or shower, place the bucket with holes into it, and push downward. Dirty water will bubble up through the holes. Flip over both buckets then push downward on the bottom of the intact bucket to force as much water as possible out of the clothing now trapped between the two.
Once most of the dirty water has been squeezed out, rest the buckets on their side, remove the one with the holes, refill the intact one, and start the whole process over. Repeat at least twice using detergent and two more times using cold, clean water to rinse. Hang to dry.
For a balanced workout, switch hands during agitating. From start to finish, the entire process takes roughly 20 minutes.
americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥
Showing posts with label hand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hand. Show all posts
27 March 2017
05 December 2012
on cleaning clothes
I no longer use a washing-machine powered by electricity. Instead, I have developed a series of buckets in which I clean my clothes, a system that works fairly well. To start, I fill up an old cat litter bucket – one that is clean, squat, and wider than the average contractor's bucket – with the clothes I wish to wash, a dollop of detergent, and water. Usually, I allow this brew to sit for many hours out on the deck so that the soap and water can impregnate the fibers and make cleaning easier. Such long soakings (which make up phase 1) work fine in summer; in winter, however, they find me cleaning my clothes in the evenings, the cold and the dark conspiring with the dirty, frigid water in which my garments have been sitting to make for a miserable task. Now, I process a load in one go, the wash and the rinse cycles following one another closely rather than being spaced out over an entire day.
I agitate the clothes in the squat bucket by poking one side down with a long bamboo pole (a broomstick will also work during this, phase 2), forcing the items down on one side, which pushes them up on the other and allows me to mash the garments thoroughly. After I see a particular shirt or item for the third or fourth time, I put aside my stick and drop a skinnier bucket into the squat one (skinnier in that its bottom goes all the way down to the bottom of the wider bucket), this one with many holes drilled into its bottom and sides. I sit on the top of the skinner bucket, thus forcing the water from the clothes using my own weight. Once I am satisfied with this rudimentary straining, I take the skinnier bucket back out and resume poking at the clothes with my poker, rotating them around and around until they seem well agitated. (The water at this point will be oily, brownish, and filled with tiny particles of sweat, skin, and dirt.) I usually agitate and strain at least three times before dumping out what water I can and moving on to phase 3.
Phase 3 involves putting the skinnier bucket back into the squat bucket but then flipping both over together so that the water runs out. Then, I sit on the bottom of the squat bucket, using my own weight to strain the clothes against the skinnier bucket (which, again, has holes drilled into its bottom and sides). This forces much of the remaining water out of the clothes; I get even more out by rocking back and forth and by shifting position on the bottom of the squat bucket, which allows trapped pockets of water to escape onto the wooden deck, which must be swept off afterward to keep it from rotting quite so quickly. I generally give the clothes a visual check at this point, and a close smelling, to see if they need a third rinse or if the are clean enough to move on to phase 4. This last phase involves taking the wet items from the squat bucket and hanging them up to dry on my clothes-spider, a retractable hanger that perches at the edge of the deck far enough from the house so that the water dripping from the clothes does not seep into the foundation or moisten the siding. I usually leave the clothes there to drip their remaining moisture onto the grass; if I am lucky, they get an additional from the rain. Once the clothes are mostly dry, I move them to lines under the roof of the upper, front porch, where they are allowed to dry fully before being taken in, folded, and put away.
Cleaning clothes in the manner described above takes more time than with an electrical washing-machine; it uses virtually no electricity, however, it is all but silent, and it provides the washer with a good upper-body workout. The cost for the buckets, soap, and poker is less than $20, but the ability to wash one's clothes – without electricity or undue physical strain – is nearly priceless. Regain a slice of independence through honest effort! Mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
I agitate the clothes in the squat bucket by poking one side down with a long bamboo pole (a broomstick will also work during this, phase 2), forcing the items down on one side, which pushes them up on the other and allows me to mash the garments thoroughly. After I see a particular shirt or item for the third or fourth time, I put aside my stick and drop a skinnier bucket into the squat one (skinnier in that its bottom goes all the way down to the bottom of the wider bucket), this one with many holes drilled into its bottom and sides. I sit on the top of the skinner bucket, thus forcing the water from the clothes using my own weight. Once I am satisfied with this rudimentary straining, I take the skinnier bucket back out and resume poking at the clothes with my poker, rotating them around and around until they seem well agitated. (The water at this point will be oily, brownish, and filled with tiny particles of sweat, skin, and dirt.) I usually agitate and strain at least three times before dumping out what water I can and moving on to phase 3.
Phase 3 involves putting the skinnier bucket back into the squat bucket but then flipping both over together so that the water runs out. Then, I sit on the bottom of the squat bucket, using my own weight to strain the clothes against the skinnier bucket (which, again, has holes drilled into its bottom and sides). This forces much of the remaining water out of the clothes; I get even more out by rocking back and forth and by shifting position on the bottom of the squat bucket, which allows trapped pockets of water to escape onto the wooden deck, which must be swept off afterward to keep it from rotting quite so quickly. I generally give the clothes a visual check at this point, and a close smelling, to see if they need a third rinse or if the are clean enough to move on to phase 4. This last phase involves taking the wet items from the squat bucket and hanging them up to dry on my clothes-spider, a retractable hanger that perches at the edge of the deck far enough from the house so that the water dripping from the clothes does not seep into the foundation or moisten the siding. I usually leave the clothes there to drip their remaining moisture onto the grass; if I am lucky, they get an additional from the rain. Once the clothes are mostly dry, I move them to lines under the roof of the upper, front porch, where they are allowed to dry fully before being taken in, folded, and put away.
Cleaning clothes in the manner described above takes more time than with an electrical washing-machine; it uses virtually no electricity, however, it is all but silent, and it provides the washer with a good upper-body workout. The cost for the buckets, soap, and poker is less than $20, but the ability to wash one's clothes – without electricity or undue physical strain – is nearly priceless. Regain a slice of independence through honest effort! Mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
01 June 2012
on signaling turns & lane changes
As one who velocipedes in a rural area, a town not at all designed with bicyclists in mind, I find myself adhering more strictly to the rules of the road than most of the automobile drivers with whom I share it. While I admit to running the occasional stop-sign – when no one else is within my fields of vision – and while I flagrantly violate the local law that states that pedal-mashers must ride on, of all places, the sidewalk (which is, one would think, intended only for foot-bound pedestrian traffic), I follow the law in one instance more than most others: signaling turns and lane changes.
Signaling one's lane changes and turns indicates a number of things. First, and foremost, it is a courtesy to the other drivers, a simple yet effective way to let them know that their location is known, that their existence on the road has been noted, and that the person making the lane change will do so, if at all possible, without slamming into any other cars that happen to be in his or her vicinity. Second, it gives the other persons on the road some small bit of warning that one's conveyance is about to undergo a series of sudden and likely violent maneuvers intended to change its direction and that of the people riding within or on top of it. Third, and perhaps most importantly, it shows that, as someone operating a vehicle on the road, one has one's shit together to the point that one knows just which route to take to get to where one am going, that one is taking the most direct and efficient path toward one's goal, and that one is paying attention to what is going on on the road rather than browsing the interwebs or clicking through a friend's tropical vacation pictures on facebook.
If you, dear friend, like to prove your worth to society at large, if you strive to be respectful not only of the property but also of the opinions of others, if you think that America would be a better place if everyone simply respected the life-threateningly dangerous activity that we call driving, please consider signaling your own lane changes, turns, and merges – every time and everywhere – even if it does not appear that anyone else is around who might benefit from such courtesy. With a bit of concerted effort, and a simple flick of the wrist, we can, each one of us, help to make this nation a better place for all who live here. Thanks, and mahalo.
場黑麥 menterefecterem fecit
Signaling one's lane changes and turns indicates a number of things. First, and foremost, it is a courtesy to the other drivers, a simple yet effective way to let them know that their location is known, that their existence on the road has been noted, and that the person making the lane change will do so, if at all possible, without slamming into any other cars that happen to be in his or her vicinity. Second, it gives the other persons on the road some small bit of warning that one's conveyance is about to undergo a series of sudden and likely violent maneuvers intended to change its direction and that of the people riding within or on top of it. Third, and perhaps most importantly, it shows that, as someone operating a vehicle on the road, one has one's shit together to the point that one knows just which route to take to get to where one am going, that one is taking the most direct and efficient path toward one's goal, and that one is paying attention to what is going on on the road rather than browsing the interwebs or clicking through a friend's tropical vacation pictures on facebook.
If you, dear friend, like to prove your worth to society at large, if you strive to be respectful not only of the property but also of the opinions of others, if you think that America would be a better place if everyone simply respected the life-threateningly dangerous activity that we call driving, please consider signaling your own lane changes, turns, and merges – every time and everywhere – even if it does not appear that anyone else is around who might benefit from such courtesy. With a bit of concerted effort, and a simple flick of the wrist, we can, each one of us, help to make this nation a better place for all who live here. Thanks, and mahalo.
場黑麥 menterefecterem fecit
14 May 2012
on keeping limbs in cars
Among this worthless whorphan's many driving-related pet peeves – drivers who do not signal turns or lane-changes, who try to multi-task while at the wheel, who drift across double yellow lines, who allow passengers to put feet up on the dashboard – few, if any, trump his frustration with persons who endanger otherwise healthy body parts by hanging them out of car windows. (As pointed out in previous posts, since my personal Life, Liberty, & Property is not directly affected by such foolhardy decisions made by others, I should not have reason to be as upset as I apparently am; perhaps it is the sheer foolish audacity of it, however, that chaps my buns.) Moreover, this piece would not have been written if I had not, just the other day, seen a local high-school driving instructor dangling his hand casually in the breeze while in the company of a young, female student-driver. (I was of a mind to drag him out of the car and beat him senseless for teaching a minor such a bad and dangerous habit, but his charge was exceeding the speed limit in a 25 mile-per-hour zone, and I could not catch them up.)
Attention, good upstanding Americans: if you put hand, foot, head, elbow, knee, leg, or arm outside of a car's window while that car is in motion, the likelihood is greater than 50% that that hand, elbow, foot, head, arm, or leg will be ripped off (whereas if you keep all of your limbs inside the vehicle, the likelihood they will be ripped off approaches 0%). Any piece of flesh – human, canine, or otherwise – that sticks out of a car while that car is in motion can, and more than likely will, hit or get snagged on, and remain stuck to, stationary objects such as street-signs, bushes, mail boxes, fence posts, parked cars, dumpsters, self-service newspaper kiosks, telephone poles, and anything else that the car might happen to be passing at the time. When moving flesh hits resting metal at forty miles-per-hour, that flesh deforms and becomes a pulp-like substance that easily separates from the body proper and stays stuck to stationary objects, where it will dangle and dance in the passing breezes.
Please, people who value their hands, who like their feet, who desire to have five fingers for as long as possible, who wish to avoid trips to the emergency room, painful surgeries, long bouts of rehabilitation, the life-long stigma of being a cripple, and phantom-limb syndrome, please keep all parts of your body on the inside of a moving vehicle at all times. This article may sound alarmist, and I may come across as a curmudgeonly fuck-wad who refuses to mind his own business, but the Second Sons of Liberty need everyone to be whole, healthy, and physically fit who shall be participating in our rekindling of the white-hot flame that is the True American Dream. So please, dear friends, be smart, stay alert, and do not risk your limbs for nothing – save that sacrifice for when it will truly count.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
Attention, good upstanding Americans: if you put hand, foot, head, elbow, knee, leg, or arm outside of a car's window while that car is in motion, the likelihood is greater than 50% that that hand, elbow, foot, head, arm, or leg will be ripped off (whereas if you keep all of your limbs inside the vehicle, the likelihood they will be ripped off approaches 0%). Any piece of flesh – human, canine, or otherwise – that sticks out of a car while that car is in motion can, and more than likely will, hit or get snagged on, and remain stuck to, stationary objects such as street-signs, bushes, mail boxes, fence posts, parked cars, dumpsters, self-service newspaper kiosks, telephone poles, and anything else that the car might happen to be passing at the time. When moving flesh hits resting metal at forty miles-per-hour, that flesh deforms and becomes a pulp-like substance that easily separates from the body proper and stays stuck to stationary objects, where it will dangle and dance in the passing breezes.
Please, people who value their hands, who like their feet, who desire to have five fingers for as long as possible, who wish to avoid trips to the emergency room, painful surgeries, long bouts of rehabilitation, the life-long stigma of being a cripple, and phantom-limb syndrome, please keep all parts of your body on the inside of a moving vehicle at all times. This article may sound alarmist, and I may come across as a curmudgeonly fuck-wad who refuses to mind his own business, but the Second Sons of Liberty need everyone to be whole, healthy, and physically fit who shall be participating in our rekindling of the white-hot flame that is the True American Dream. So please, dear friends, be smart, stay alert, and do not risk your limbs for nothing – save that sacrifice for when it will truly count.
場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit
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