Humidity is not my friend. It makes my hair fuzzy, my joints achy, my nose sniffly. I have suffered the whole time I’ve lived here, which has been…a lotta, lotta years. (I am older right now than my mother was when we moved here, if that tells you anything.)
I won’t say I don’t experience some benefits from the humidity. I don’t suffer the dry skin here that I do up north. And as I don’t use fabric softener, I tend to have issues with sweaters when the air is drier. However, I would happily scratch, snap, crackle, and pop if it meant I could breathe. I can’t breathe when it’s damp and moldy.
And while my kids are a bit young to have been tested, Anya is already on daily allergy meds, and Kai is showing signs of eczema. I was diagnosed with allergies at a young age, too — around age 3. They did not get better with age.
So I bit the bullet. Ordered a dehumidifier. A nice (ie, expensive) one. Hopefully more dehumidifier than I need, really. But I erred on the side of excess. Sometimes, you need to jump on a problem with both feet.
My new dehumidifier should be here next week. I’ll report back once we have it up and running.