My washing machine has a “Hand Wash” cycle. “Hand Wash” are the exact words on the dial. I kid you not. How the hell does something like that work?
I know it’s not for washing my hands. I’ve got a front-loading machine. The door locks when it’s doing the wash. I couldn’t wash my hands in my machine without severing them first.
I guess the door locks so I won’t cause a flood by accidentally opening it when the machine is full of water. A flood wouldn’t bother me because my floors could do with being cleaned once in a while. Nevertheless, the manufacturer apparently thinks it is something that most people want to avoid. Go figure.
Hand Wash (Hands not included)
The point, as already stated, is that I’d have to rip my hands off to wash them in my washing machine. Maybe it’s just me, but I think that’s going way overboard in the personal hygiene department, even during a pandemic. Clearly, that’s not what the manufacturer had in mind.
If the “Hand Wash” cycle is not for washing hands, it must be for clothes that require hand-washing. Hand washing clothes inside the machine. How scary is that?
Needless to say, I’ve never used the hand wash feature. I would, but there’s an ethical question that I need answered before I would consider doing so: If I use that cycle, are the hands that do the washing donated voluntarily? Or do grave-robbers steal them without the consent of the donor and/or the donor’s next-of-kin? Or, worse, does someone take them from a living “donor?”
Hand Donations
Even if someone volunteers their hands, did the donor give consent with full knowledge of the use to which his or her hands will be put? Wait. Is that what I agreed to when I signed my organ donor card? If so, I think I might reconsider being an organ donor.
I know I won’t be using them at that point, but still. It seems to me like a rather disrespectful use of my corpse’s hands. Furthermore, considering what a slob I am, using my dismembered hands to do laundry would disrespect my slovenly legacy.
I assume the hands that will do the washing inside my washing machine will be severed first. It can’t be any other way. My washing machine is one of those smaller models designed for apartments. There isn’t enough room inside it for a whole adult and my clothes. I suppose using a particularly small child is an option, but I try to avoid employing child labour unless it’s convenient to do so.
I also assume the hands will be from an already dead person. The alternative—using hands ripped off a live person—is too hideous to consider. Then again, the thought of a dead person’s hands inside my washing machine has a tinge of the macabre to it as well. So I’m not exactly thrilled about either option.
What’s more, my washer has a window in it. The thought of looking in there and seeing a pair of disembodied hands reaching out and washing my clothes is a wee bit too ghoulish for my tastes.
Lazy is as Lazy Does
I’m a lazy guy. So, because I refuse to use the hand wash cycle, rather than washing my hand-wash-only clothes, I wear them unwashed until they’re thoroughly threadbare. Then, I replace them.
My clothes usually become filthy long before then. That’s not a problem because, after wearing them for a couple of years without washing, they smell so bad that nobody will get close enough to notice how dirty they are. (I know what you’re thinking, but it’s amazing what stenches you can become immune to if you build up to it slowly.)
Boycott
I recognize that boycotting the hand wash cycle due to the moral repugnance of using hands for that purpose is purely a symbolic gesture. Everyone who buys that model of washer gets the hand wash cycle, so the hands that do the washing must be in there whether I choose to use the cycle or not. Nevertheless, the symbolism of a boycott can be a powerful weapon when fighting for human rights and dignity.
Then again, there’s a chance that I’m confused about this whole “hand wash” cycle thing. And, before you ask, no, I don’t tell dad jokes. I’m childless.
