It doesn�t bother me so much to wash my clothes by hand. I do a really good job, and everything always gets thoroughly clean. It works out well, except that it hurts my right wrist, which has never been the same since I worked at a boys� ranch and had to use my staff keys 175 times a day.
I get out a large yellow bowl/bucket thing my landlord gave to me, fill it with water (cool, tepid, warm, or hot, depending on what I�m washing) and then add either Woolite (that my dad sent me) or liquid detergent concentrate which smells good and you can buy here, but sometimes it�s a little harsh.
I set the bowl in the sink; the dimensions of the bowl are such that it fits perfectly in my sink, which is conveniently divided into two equal halves. I put the clothes in, and let them soak a few minutes. I agitate them by hand and then scrub them with this little hard brush I brought from home. I used to use it to keep my french manicured acrylic fingernails clean back in my sorority days, the irony of which is not lost on me.
When all this is done, I take the article of clothing out of the water, squeeze as much soapy water out of it as I can, then bring it over to the other side of the sink for rinsing and more squeezing. Then I either lay it on the big flat metal rectangular heater in my kitchen (it isn�t designed for this purpose but it doesn�t get hot enough to burn or hurt the clothes) or take it out to my tiny balcony clothesline. Both of these places have room for three things at a time, and the heater is a LOT faster.
The reason all this work is a pain in the ass to me is only because of how much it hurts my wrist. As I type this, it feels like it is on fire. It�s just hard on the hands in general; my skin is dry and flaky, and I have big callouses. Also I don�t have enough room or clothes hangers to really do a lot in one day. That�s okay though, my wrist probably couldn�t manage much more than 6 things a day anyhow.
This afternoon�s laundry experience was nice. The sun was shining outside, so I opened up my balcony door to air the place out. The door doesn�t have a screen on it, but I just pull the curtain (a thin material with square holes in it) that runs the length of the door and adjoining window over the top of the open door, and it acts as a bug screen, while still allowing the fresh air and view. I washed three sweaters, and three kitchen hand towels. I laid the towels on the heater and took the sweaters outside.
I brought 20 wooden clothespins from home, and they are much stronger than the plastic ones I often see here. I hung the sweaters and felt eyes upon me. I looked to my left (I am on the end of the building) and saw three little children giggling from their balcony. I said, �Zdravo� (hello) and they giggled some more. Finally one said, �Dobar den� (good afternoon).
Inside my laptop was blasting a mix of Santana, Frank Sinatra, the Doobie Brothers and Fleetwood Mac. I watched the little kids playing hopscotch below my window (I am three floors up) and they watched me squeezing and squeezing and squeezing the sleeves of my sweaters. The man who lives below me came out onto his balcony for a cigarette - I immediately wrinkled my nose at the smell but didn�t know he was standing there. I narrowly avoided squeezing all the water from the end sweater right onto his bald head!
Maybe this summer I will buy a washing machine!