Neighborhood Clothline Trouble

This is not how I had initially begun this story. I had started ranting about how much I hate lines - went in to describe the type of lines that exist like I am a 'linesman', but to be frank, I hate when linesmen raise that yellow flag after a comeback goal (football talk). When I couldn't describe more than three, I gave up, and here we are. Me jumping right into it and telling it as it is.

I am sure this experience is relatable to many, if not all. Washing clothes for most men is the last chore they would choose. It was one of those days I had depleted my supply of acceptable wears that made me presentable at work and so I had no choice but to wash all my clothes. But you have to understand that when living in rentals there are some prerequisites that have to align with your duty. First I head out to ensure no one is washing nor making an attempt to do laundry because the hanging lines were limited. Well, there was the option of hanging your clothes on the fence which is next to the road but chances are when coming back to collect them, some articles would be missing. The second and third things I had to confirm was if any of my roommates needed to take a shower because the soap and basin I would use to clean my clothes have the ability to multitask. 

When all checked out, I took out my mitumba and upon reaching the tap to draw water I meet my contender. She is washing clothes from a different block of the building. I see their hanging line is full and know she will want to hang on our line. Her pile is almost halfway and I'm yet to start. I turn off my music because the race to the hanging line just got serious. 

Foam takes longer to form when your water is hard, I learned that in Chemistry and thought about this as I desperately rubbed and squeezed fabric between my palms to force out the dirt. First trouser down, second, third....I see her stand. It was a false alarm she had gone to get more soap, I sigh. Washing clothes never felt this exciting, as this time adrenaline was in play and I was like Kipchoge on the #Ineos159 challenge; soap and water were my pacesetters and my job was to make it to the hanging line on time. Rub, squeeze...Rub squeeze and a few minutes later I was down to the last item, my brown rectangular bedsheet. Brown is a good color because before I dipped it, you could never tell the last time I washed it was a year ago. I could picture myself waving the pacesetters away for me to take the last stretch all alone, like the champ I am.

She escaped my mind for a moment. I made the assumption she could never have beaten my record time. Then I heard footsteps, only to look up and see her drawing water to rinse. As she walked away her loose dress, the famous Dera, danced around her body, momentarily collapsing on flesh and revealing her curves on either side depending on how she shifted her body to carry the weight of the water in her pail. 

I wasn't ready to hang. I had only washed one side of the bedsheet but there was no way I was letting her hang and take up all the space. Quick thinking, I believe is one of my superpowers because the amount of calculations that my brain processed in split seconds, even Einstein couldn't comprehend.

As she was busy dipping her washed garments in clean water to rid them of soap, I made my way to the faucet (I have always wanted to use this word) with my half-cleaned bedsheet rinsed it and hanged it with the longest side. It covered 75% of the hanging line. I then took my headphones turned up the volume, and calmly went to draw more water to complete my task. I couldn't see it, but I could feel my mouth crack into a tiny smile. I had won.