Sally Breslin: My Life: BAD DEHUMIDIFIER, GOOD DEHUMIDIFIER, NO DEHUMIDIFIER

In last week's blog I started to tell you about my new dehumidifier.

According to the manufacturer's description, it supposedly could do just about everything short of making my breakfast and walking my dogs. I couldn't wait to turn it on and transform my soggy, mildewed basement into something completely dry and smelling like roses within a day or two.

So I followed the instructions and soon, it was set up and running – quietly purring like the proverbial kitten despite its alleged "super-duper" strength. On its display panel it showed a reading of 84 percent humidity in the basement. It then asked how low I wanted to set the target level. I thought about it for a while, then set it at 45 percent. According to the manufacturer, when the unit finally did reach 45, it would shut off automatically as an energy-saving feature and not pop on again until the humidity started to climb.

After the dehumidifier had been running for about six hours, I was eager to see the results, so I went downstairs to check the humidity level. According to all of the glowing reviews, it should have dropped dramatically by then.

It was 82 percent...a whole two percent lower.

Another 24 hours later, it was 79. I figured by the time it got down to the 45 percent I wanted, my basement would be covered in moss and mushrooms. Still, I forced myself to be patient and give the machine a fair chance. I programmed it to collect the moisture into its inside bucket, instead of having it automatically drain through the hose that came with it. That way, I'd be able to measure how much water it sucked out of the air...hopefully over 100 pints a day as the manufacturer claimed it would.

Alas, it collected barely a pint per day, even after a rainstorm that left a big puddle in the middle of the basement floor. I had to drag the wet/dry vacuum down there and use that to suck up the puddle after the water began to resemble something from the Black Lagoon.

I was patient for nearly two weeks. The dehumidifier ran continuously, shutting off only when it went into the “defrost” mode. Even so, the humidity seesawed between 69 and 86 percent. Then it just remained at a fairly constant 82. Even blasting the machine's fan on its highest setting, which could have blown wallpaper off the walls, didn't help dry out the air.

Unfortunately, I learned it was because the unit itself was leaking, contributing to the dampness in the basement instead of drying it out. I couldn't figure out the source of the leak, however. The instructions said to make sure the bucket wasn't overflowing. Heck, the bucket never was more than one-quarter full, so it definitely wasn't overflowing.

Meanwhile the refreshing scent of "Eau de Mildew" continued to permeate my house.

When the electric bill arrived and I noticed the total had increased by $40, that did it. I shut off the dehumidifier and unplugged it. In my opinion, its trial period was over. I finally was forced to admit what I'd been trying to deny ever since the first day I'd turned it on...the unit wasn't big enough or powerful enough to handle the problems in my warehouse-sized basement. It was struggling. So its leaking probably was due to an inguinal hernia.

One of my friends dropped by and checked it out, then quickly summed up the problem in only a few words: "What a piece of cheap junk! They sure don't make things the way they used to."

So once again I called customer service, this time to ask how to return the dehumidifier.

"We can have someone come pick it up for you," the woman said.

I breathed a sigh of relief because I wasn't about to struggle with the darned thing again. Dragging it down the stairs had been torture enough. The thought of having to somehow get it back up the stairs seemed about as daunting as scaling Mount Everest.

But my relief was short-lived.

"Just make sure the dehumidifier is packed back in its original box with all of the original paperwork and accessories it came with, and that it's outside waiting for them when they come to get it," the woman added.

"Outside? How am I supposed to get it up the basement stairs? Can't they help me?"

"Sorry, no."

"Why not?"

"They can't enter your house. It's the rule."

Déjà vu.

"I see you ordered it online," she added. "But you still can return it to the nearest store if you'd like."

Sure. Easy. I could just drive my car down to my basement...maybe squeeze it in through the bulkhead, and shove the dehumidifier into the hatchback, then head off to the store.

Call me hard to please, but I wasn't fond of either option.

Frustration can make some people do pretty dumb things. And I turned out to be one of those people. The dehumidifier had a handle on top and wheels on the bottom. So I grabbed the handle and wheeled it over to the staircase. Then, one stair at a time, I used both hands to yank it up to the top as I walked backwards. But first, I removed the bucket, the filter door, and anything else I could think of to make the beast even slightly lighter.

It didn’t help. By the time I reached the top stair, I felt as if I'd pinched every nerve in my body. Even my nostril hairs hurt.

But I was excited because the dehumidifier no longer was in the basement...and neither was I, which meant I hadn’t tumbled down the stairs and knocked myself unconscious. And as far as I could tell, my heart still was beating.

So I put everything back together, boxed up the dehumidifier and dragged it out to my car in the garage. I was ready to celebrate because I'd actually made it that far all on my own. But then I hoisted the box, trying to get it into the hatchback, and my back began to emit sounds very similar to those of someone in high heels walking across a carpet made of bubble wrap.

The next day I drove to the store, left the dehumidifier in the car and headed straight to the service desk.

"I'm returning a really heavy item," I said. "Is there someone who can help me bring it in?"

The clerk smiled and immediately paged someone.

A young, petite woman showed up and said, "Lead the way!"

I had expected Hercules or the Incredible Hulk to appear, so I was taken aback by the employee – even more so when she didn't even grab a dolly or one of the big flatbed wagons on our way out.

When we arrived at my car, which was parked in the middle of the lot, she reached in through the hatchback, dragged out the box and promptly hoisted it up onto one shoulder, as effortlessly as if it weighed only a few ounces instead of about 60 pounds.

When she saw my shocked expression, she laughed and said, "Being able to lift 50 pounds or more is one of the requirements of this job, so I'm used to it. You should see me with the sacks of cement and fertilizer!"

Without even so much as a grunt or a hair out of place, she carried the box into the store. I didn't know whether to be impressed or to resent her...because at that moment my body still was screaming at me to drive over to urgent care and beg for painkillers.

I was refunded my money without any problem, so I detoured down to the dehumidifier department and talked to an employee there. He asked me a lot of questions about my basement, then said I'd need a much bigger and more powerful unit, which I'd have to order from their website.

I sighed. "And then UPS will just deliver it to my driveway or porch and not take it down to the basement for me, right?"

He nodded. "Sorry, but..."

"It's the rule," I said at the same time he did.

So the next day I ordered a bigger, stronger dehumidifier that cost a few hundred dollars more. But first, I made sure I could line up someone who'd carry it downstairs for me after it was delivered. I wasn't about to attempt it again on my own...not ever...not even for a million dollars.

Well...maybe...

The website listed the date of delivery as February 12th. So on that day, I had everything ready and waiting.

And I'm still waiting.

Even though the website had said there were 23 of that particular dehumidifier in stock when I ordered it, it's now suddenly on backorder with the ETA "unknown." So I guess everyone suddenly must have wanted to buy one on the exact day I did.

Meanwhile, I'm still dehumidifier-less.

But the moss and mushrooms are doing just great.

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Sally Breslin is a native New Englander and an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net

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