Youth with a Hair Dryer and Damp Laundry

How many instances in life do you find yourself sitting on the floor, blow-drying your damp laundry with a compact 1200W hair dryer? Is this youth? It must be. 青春っていいな～

This year, the gods are in a rather good mood, playing with the weather and flooding our islands in the tropics. Granting the wishes of us sweaty tropical organisms, the monsoon season graced us with temperatures that we wish would last for many months to come. Because I am an indoor parasite of extreme indolence, the storm, the flood, and the traffic jams are but newspaper cuttings and Facebook posts to me-- which is also why I am able to lie here in bed, snug, enjoying the chill.

Without the sun in my eyes, I'm really happy these days. However, laundry days, while already a hassle, have now earned the title of most dreaded days. The cold and damp, against the cold and damp, is it even possible for the water to evaporate? So I sit there, with a hair dryer in hand at 9pm.

Standing on where I was sitting, I realise how much warmth I've lost.

Did I ever think of buying a proper iron? Well, other than using it to make toast, I don't know how I'd go about ironing my clothes. Buttons and folds, laces and frills, creases, creases, CREASES! In the past when I'd attempt to be responsible and iron my clothing, I somehow permanently press the wrinkles into the fabric rather than smoothing them over. Perhaps I am fundamentally flawed to always do whatever the wrong way.

Lining dry the laundry under the sun gives it a distinct scent that reminds me of home because home is the only place where I could hang them outside, in the garden. High rises in the city, a student dormitory with a narrow balcony; even if it is the same UV rays that's cutting through the wetness, it just doesn't feel like home. Mother's mixture of too-much detergent, the smell of overgrown grass with German Shepherds sleeping close-by, all seep into the seams to create a scent that would push every dependent 20-something to run back home and reflect on their own incompetence while mother does all the work.

The only smell from the hair dryer is the smell of burnt hair.

It's okay though, because I'm going home tomorrow.