Letter 32

May 3, 2011

Dear Mom,

How are you? Not too beleaguered, I hope. The latest on my end is that I likely threw my blanket away this morning. It was still dark, an idiot was playing with the cell lights (giving Jesus and I stroboscopic lighting!) He talks little anyway and not at all in the morning and was busy getting our cell ready for being "white gloved" for the new Colonel. Once a month, the laundry is supposed to wash our blankets as well. Today happened to be that day. The orderlies have to collect our trays and laundry bags along with anything else we don't want to keep in the cell, and do it in two seconds while the flaps are unlocked. Jesus and I don't even try to talk at that hour, so it was all I could do to stuff all of our things through the slot before I realized my mistake. No one does anything unless they are forced to here, so my blanket was effectively turned in.

I'm getting too good at my weight going up/down like a yo-yo, too. I no longer have any reserves (prudent or otherwise) to draw from in my account. That's a hint, by the way.

Jesus is full of good news this morning. Five minutes ago he told me how unlined paper (i.e., typing/printer paper) is used by all the prisons he's been to before strictly for interdepartmental memos and is prohibited for correspondence use. After he saw the paper I used to write my Dad on, he told me this. I can't win, at least not today. What I'll do, maybe, is lay down until it isn't the third anymore and see if anything changes. Something needs to break my way.

Anyhow, I'd appreciate it if you would forward my letter on to its destination. Thank you. I need to see what I can do to get my blanket back, as it gets sort of chilly without one here.

Much love,

James