Bath Time

It is time to bathe, he heads first to the washroom stall.  If they didn't want you washing in there, they would have named it differently.  He peels off his very dirty clothes for not quite as dirty clothes in his over stuffed dirty backpack.  He knows that washing clothes in the toilet might be counter intuitive, but then reasons that the clothes have to be dirtier than the water.  When he's done washing them the water is murky brown.

Then he takes his toilet water wet clothes to the drier and dries them.  The native drug dealers gathered in the bathroom don't mind, i.e. they will not murder him.  In this cray cray day n' age, the washroom is the only safe place from the All Seeing Eye!  No one minds very smelly homeless man as he dries his clothes under the drier. As soon as you touch anything foreign you will be beset with germs.  And even if you touch something on your person, you are still as good as beset.  Also, the door handles are covered in syphilis and other blood born diseases.

It is Tuesday.  There is still an indefinite amount of time until he kicks the bucket.  He has seen an inflatable raft down by the river, and makes plans to patch it.  He just has to find a store to steal the patching from and he is as good as gone.  But no one will let him into any store.  His smell is a party for noses that like bad smells.  He is as good as gone.  The river runs east and that is where the sun rises.  A rising sun.  A new dawn.  It can't get any worse.