On the road again

There I was, lying in my bed, listening to the radio and reading my book. My window was open with a nice, cool breeze coming through. The sun had gone down and I was relaxing before my shift started at midnight. this was what I had been looking forward to. It's still prison, but better than San Saba.

Then it was all interrupted.

"Cellie, you're on the chain", called my Mexican cellmate.

"No, not me. You sure?" I responded.

"Yeah, they called your bunk for chain."

This is nuts. I just go here a month ago and only saw parole two weeks ago. The phrase "on chain" means that a person is being transferred and probably comes from the shackles that links inmates to each other on the bus. This is far too soon to be transferred, but sure enough, when I asked the guard on duty, she said it was me that was leaving so I should pack up.

After packing everything and taking it to the administration building to be inventoried, I found out that I was going to Huntsville to be transferred to a pre-release unit. Just because they say pre-release doesn't mean I'm getting out soon. It just means that I'm going to a nicer faciilty, one to ease the transition to the free world. Some people stay at one for more than two years. This was pretty good news, but I still don't my final destination, which I had assumed was my current unit.

I'm leaving all my food behind because I can't fit it into the one onion bag I keep with me on transfer and don't want it to show up in a month if I put it in property. My property from San Saba still has not caught up with me. Now I'm taking my last nap before breakfast here in Dayton. I'll probably leave around 7 AM.