HUMIDITY II

My room is in the corner of the house. The house was constructed in the 1920s. There is no insulation in the walls. My room is often humid. The sheets feel wet, and books curl. This morning, I waited until it stopped raining. I plugged in the space heater and turned on the air conditioner. I took a shower. When I came back, it was better, marginally. After work I need to get some DampRids®. I usually get 3.

HUMIDITY

Last night a mosquito buzzed my ear. I got out of bed and turned on the light. I looked, but couldn't find it. I went back to sleep. When I woke up, it was behind my bed. I slapped it, and blood stained the wall. I tried to find the bite, but couldn't. Then I ate some cookies.

PROJECTIONS

Little did I know when I started washing blackboards in the third grade that it would turn into a career. Luckily, Mrs. Kapper recognized my talent immediately, and was able to convince the principal to take me on as a paid employee. I continued to attend classes, but focused most of my energy on walking to the janitor's closet, filling the bucket with water, and wiping downward with quick, strong strokes of the sponge. Throughout middle and high school, I commuted back to Harding Elementary to fulfill my contractual duty, and upon graduation became a full-time worker. My new status brought great responsibility, and I assumed board-washing duties for every classroom, as well as a series of apprentices. Although dry erase boards and PowerPoint threaten to make my calling obsolete, I continue to devote myself to the cleaning of the slate, and hope that one day my profession will be recognized as the art that it is. Until then, I remain yours, forever in chalkdust.