One day in March, I’d found myself, in the company of the dehumidifier. Originally, as I’d pushed open the door, and heard it buzzed low, my reflexes backed me out the door, like I was afraid, of affecting it from doing what it was supposed to, I’d feared even more, that I will, become, dehumidified myself; then, I’d changed my mind, and wanted to, reopen the door, I’d just wanted to, clean up a small desk drawer, I’d told myself, like I was also, explaining my intrusion to the dehumidifier too, it’d always been, alone.
the old one, time for it to, RETIRE!!!
The waves of spring had, receded, and, I’d felt that heat from the earth with the soles of my feet, this, is a season, to be in the same room with a dehumidifier, a season that I can’t, live without it.
And still, its breathing tempos changed all of a sudden, started panting hard, like how the airplane took off, with all its might, and that forcefulness made me, want to make my getaway.
The well digger that worked nights and days, I know, that he’s tired, but, I’d not known that he was, this tired! Then, he’d fallen, completely, silent. After the quick-tempo rhythms succeeded, came the dead silence, and, it didn’t matter if it were, a mistake, or if the song was, written that way, I’d needed to, take a breath. I’d held my breath, waited on for a couple of minutes, and, when it’d started rumbling, working again, some of the audience couldn’t help, but applaud, and yet, some still maintained, their quieted, standpoint.
‘Cuz we got a BRAND new one now…
and, doesn’t this look a WHOLE lot better, than that older one???
My humidifier runs by the week, it’s a sort of a work day, also, more like, a prayer of sorts. The next week it’d started working, it’d, given off that plastic fume, and the dumb owner waited until the scent was gone, the very next day, restarted it again, like it was, an experiment, and here, the owner finally admitted, that the machine’s time is up, pulled the plugs, and, ended its, twelve years of life, terminating this employer-employee relationship.
This was the very first dehumidifier that I’d broken, and, supposedly, I should mourn, if not for the machine, but the buckets of water that got pulled up from the wells, that were used to, flush the toilets, symbolizing how we, the house and I, our, fountains of youth. Quickly, I’d forgotten, what it’d, looked like, just recalled that it was, beige, with an arch as handle that’s been pulled too many times to broken, with the plastic tapes to keep it together.
What’s on my heart was, a dehumidifier, the first time I’d encountered such a thing, the house at the foot of that hill was totally, empty, vacant, without the basic necessities of furniture, appliances, the landlady was only willing to, provide me with an unnecessary dehumidifier, it’d, stood there, inside that dark and damp, and molding room, like a white ghost. After a little more than two thousand days, the house was, cleared out again, it was once, a magnetic rock that stuck to the house, testing, absorbing the moldy minerals, it’d still, stood there, like nothing had happened, it was, never, on my side.
I’d gone toward the waves of the southwest by April, temporarily forgotten, about the broken workings of that dehumidifier in the basins. From the past, I’d always been the one who’d cleaned up the dust and the dirt that’s accumulated, then, time for it to work, I’d collected, while it’d, conquered, at which time, I’d had that feeling of someone taking over for me, that I can, finally rest up. This time, as I’d, stepped into the room, I’d immediately noted the place where it once was, but, is no longer, there, as I’d set my luggage down, I’d, scanned for it, looked for it closely, it’s truly, no longer, there anymore, feeling the shocks of how your one army man ran off, although, I’d made myself do what I was supposed to, but, that scent of helpless sort of sorrows started, taking up root, inside of me, making my heart, humid.
humidity is rising…
Those who’re used to having air-conditioning, visiting here, they couldn’t get used to how there’s not air-conditioning, just like how someone who’d gotten used to the dehumidifier, can’t suddenly adapt without it, the dehumidifier I’d asked my younger brother to buy for me, my younger sister laughed at me, said who would buy a used machine, I’d originally had something to say too, later on, I’d developed this, emotional attachment to it, thought, that this would be well too, a retired old soldier, sent tot eh borders, he must be able to, get used to being alone. The switch set, and, it didn’t matter which way the arrow on the switchboard turned, plugging it in, the tank would start, marching onward, and, turning it off, it’s by unplugging it from the outlet on the walls directly too, I guess, that its, former owner must’ve worked it endlessly, and it’d wanted to, rebel, and refused to take any OTHER commands. Plus, you’re faced with a dented outlet on the wall, living with, the dangers of, being electrocution, with a full tank of water, the water as the witness, it worked like it was, supposed to, the senses were satisfied, and came, that fulfillment from the inside, the bed, the quilt, as the walls, all drained dry, and, this living space went from being on a cliff with the oceans underneath, to back up the mountains again.
I am its, only user, surely, nobody else was going to, use it, but, I’d still asked around, to see if someone knows, where, it’d gone, in the end, all the residents stated to me, “Who’s going to haul an old, and heavy, nearly broken dehumidifier away!”
and this, is what you get, when the heat combined with the high humidities…
In May, I’d gotten, a brand new dehumidifier, it’d become lighter, shorter, easier to carry, and, I’m no longer reminded of the word, “heavyweight” anymore. Its grayed body, the tea colored water storage, mysterious and fashionable, looked like a radio from ages ago, but vertically erect, plugging it in, I’d heard the waves rushed to it in all corners of my house. The water started rising in its tank, making the users examine it from the sides, but, there was, a dent the size of the one-dollar coin on the upper left corner, and, the drops of the water collected started, dripping, when there’s enough light, you can see the water that’s collected, drop down, into the tank, and, if you hear this process of collecting water, I’d not understood it, but, after much pretending to understand it, I’d come, to understand it now.
So, out with the old, and in with the new, but this individual felt nostalgic, parting ways with her/his former machine, perhaps, it’s because how that former humidifier had, weather through the days with the narrator, they’d become, totally, in-synch, but normally, one wouldn’t get so attached, to something as mechanical as a dehumidifier, and any forms of household appliances, it’s usually the memories that people assigned to these items that they can’t let go of…