This morning I was sleeping nicely, with my covers over my head and a few sheets of thick paper in the window to keep out the light, when my door started clicking, meaning the picket officer wanted our attention for something. When I opened the door to see what he wanted, I saw the commissary lady standing below my row."You want to help with the commissary truck?" she asked.
I'd been in my cell for the last three days on lockdown so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get out and move around.
My dorm was shaken down (searched) yesterday so now I'm free to work, as long as I am called out. The library isn't doing inventory this go 'round so they don't need my help. But most of the commissary workers are still waiting to be shaken down and there was a truck outside waiting to be unloaded.
I spent the whole day taking commissary off the truck and moving the inventory to different warehouse locations around the unit. It was the most physical labor I've done in a while - not hard work, but enough to get me tires by the end of the day. When I came back to the dorm, I took my first shower in two days and napped listening to All things Considered.
I liked the library much better. I still had enough energy for rec in the evenings I worked there. Escaping the cell during lockdown was great, though.
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