DannyBoyinExile

My cell is as familiar to me as my face is – and I know each and every blemish and imperfection just as well as the ones on my face. Though I like to think my face is just a tad better looking!
The cells here are rectangular, painted white (so long ago that they probably still used the term “whitewashed” back then), with a row of steel bars making up the front wall.
The back wall features an air vent, a light fixture, and the stainless steel toilet/sink combination. We’ve upgraded since the days of a bare bulb with a chain to pull – but just barely. It’s basically the same now – but the bulb is enclosed within a box with a plexiglass cover. This keeps inventive inmates from a) tampering with the wiring, or b) stealing the bulb when they move to a different cell.
The toilet in TDCJ is not JUST a toilet, by any means. The toilet/sink is our only source of water, so it is used to shave, wash clothes, wash yourself, and brush your teeth in. Most inmates clean the entire apparatus after every use, and keep its outside (as well as the sink) clean, shiny, and wiped dry. TDCJ even provides “Bippy” – a substance similar to Comet – specifically for that purpose. It may seem repugnant to spend so much time cleaning a toilet, but it’s more repugnant to wash your clothes or clean your floor with water from a dirty toilet!
Over time, I’ve grown used to washing my shorts and T-shirts that way. I know how clean it is, because I clean it myself – and it’s filled with soapy water (not to mention stolen bleach!) when I use it, at any rate.
The main furnishing in our cells is the set of bunk beds, affixed to one of the side walls. Because I don’t have any medical restrictions, I am almost always assigned to the top bunk. At the back of the cell (behind the bunks) is a writing table with a stool, which is generally only used to cook or eat on. I’ve gotten used to writing in my bunk, with a tablet perched precariously on my knee, where my locker and shelf is along the top of the front wall, so everything I need is within reach. My bunk is my Command Center, and I spend a lot of time there, even when I’m not sleeping.
When I move into a new cell, I give it a thorough scrubbing – because there’s no telling who lived in it before me. I clean the floor and walls regularly, and make it a point to NOT leave piles of junk lying around, like some of these pack rats do. Some inmates go so far as to buy (contraband) paint to repaint their own cells with, which is impressively neat. But we can be moved to a different cell at any time, for any or no reason at all, so I don’t go that far.
Many people in prison have had disputes with their cell mates because they felt that the other guy wasn’t doing his part to keep the cell clean. Some even make schedules, to keep track of whose turn it is to clean up. But rather than deal with that, or having to lower my cleaning standards to someone else’s level, I just do it myself. I clean the cell regularly, and tell my cellie that as long as he cleans up after HIMSELF, when he makes a mess – I’ll take care of everything else. Some guys have volunteered to help clean up anyway, and others are happy to let someone else do the work. But my cell will stay clean, regardless.
If “a house is not a home”, then a cell certainly isn’t one. But it’s still a reflection of me, so I want it as clean and orderly as I can make it. I don’t know if cleanliness is next to godliness, like they say, but I’ll be clean wherever I happen to live – in here or out there. So says DannyBoy.