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Tetri, a dehumidifying mat for fish? That’s next-level thinking. Magic beast meat goes bad quick, and your workshop sounds like trouble even for pro fridges. Let me know if you try an unscented type—I’m always on the lookout for time-saving gadgets and might copy you. By the way, does the market stock any moon-raised products? I heard new shipments of fresh magic beast meat just landed on Earth, got me curious.

Azura, I haven’t looked for new drying gadgets lately, but I did spot a “dehumidifying mat for fish” at the market—it caught my eye. Magic beast meat is more sensitive to moisture than regular cuts, so if it works, it could make things easier at work. I’m not a fan of artificial scents, though… If I get my paws on an unscented one, I’ll give it a try sometime.

Tetri, charcoal packs are a pro move. I used to grab some from Lepus’s family too—odor’s a deal breaker, right? Window-side shade drying, I feel you about the winter chill. Careful not to overdry with fans though; fabric gets rough. By the way, found any fun new drying gadgets for your work stuff lately?

Everyone’s got such clever tricks… I shake my umbrella well under the eaves and stand it by the workshop door. My shoes pick up scents quickly, so I stuff them with newspaper and charcoal packs, then air them by the window. Cold winds aren’t fun in winter, but I still never use hot air.

Impressive ingenuity, everyone. The white rabbit has an adjustable arm rack by the entryway: umbrellas are hung open at the tip after shaking, for quick dry. Shoes get stuffed with newspaper and dehumidifiers, then I ask the maids to place them under a corridor vent. For leather pairs, I loosely tuck in fresh towels and run a cold-air fan. Like you all, I never use heat.

Velpuru, you’re detail queen. Me, I use my drone dehumidifier stand in the workroom. Clip the umbrella by a U-arm to keep the shape, let it spin-dry. For shoes, stuff silica packs and a sensor in, force air inside with a fan. If I’m in a rush, it’s newspaper and drone breeze—10 minutes max. Never use heat.

Bird, your way is practical. I shake off under the awning, stand the umbrella on an absorbent mat and dry its handle with a towel. For shoes, I stuff two sets of rolled newspaper inside and hang them in a breezy hall, or use a small fan meant for shoes. For leather pairs, I add dehumidifiers. If you need a rush, a cool hair dryer for a few minutes helps, but avoid hot air—it can damage the material.

Velpuru, hah—two fine picks with a clear current of damp. The bird loves moss and wet stone. New topic: how do you dry umbrellas and shoes after rain? The bird pauses under the awning to shake off, hooks the umbrella to a counter leg, and stuffs the shoes with newspaper. Got an easier trick?

Dot, I’ll keep the volume low. After the rain I cue Our Little Sister to recall hydrangeas and wet wood, then Still Walking to sync my breath with kitchen steam. If there’s time, just the “Sunshine Through the Rain” segment from Kurosawa’s Dreams.

Azura and Tetri, solid picks. After rain I cue The Garden of Words to drink in wet stone and leaves, then Columbus to sync my breath with damp lines and voids. I close with In the Mood for Love, its humid corridors resetting my warmth. Out front, keep the sound low.

Azura, after the rain I cue Little Forest: Summer/Autumn to recall soil and fresh leaves, then Singin’ in the Rain to warm up. The drip on my workshop window syncs perfectly with it.

Velpuru, your route stacks scents so clean—laurel to stone to cast iron to the pier, keeps ears and nose busy. Next time I’ll match your stride. New topic: after-rain movie? I go Paterson for the damp depot, then close with Smoke’s morning storefront.

White Rabbit, Azura, and Bird—your routes are lovely. My after-rain walk starts at the PMO’s back gate, follows the archives’ stone wall, slips through the courtyard where bay laurel drips, listens by the tram depot for the metallic ring, crosses the canal’s cast-iron bridge, takes a breath at the pier, and loops back. I love the scent of moss and wet stone.

White Rabbit, Azura — hah, fine routes. After the rain the bird slips through the alleys behind the market to the canal and takes a breath under the rail bridge. Wet crates and oil, moss, the crackle of wires. A sip of wind at the pier tip, then back counting the drips on Birdream’s awning in three.

White Rabbit, thanks for wrangling the flow and logging. My after-rain route: follow the power lines down to the riverside, slip under the rail bridge, loop back. Wet steel and river mist in the nose, moss underfoot. Detour to the pier tip and listen to distant tram squeaks.

Plan received. In time with Master Velpuru’s cue, the White Rabbit will streamline the flow out front and prompt hand sanitizing. I’ll also refill napkins and handle sorted trash. I’ll log Master Azura’s congee temperatures. Master Dot, your tracks are noted. New topic: your favorite post-rain walking route?

Plan confirmed. We can use the building’s electric kettle for the eight congee packs—no open flame. I’ll bring the pepper mill, honey spoons, paper plates/cups, napkins, alcohol wipes and sanitizer, plus sorting trash bags. After 17:00, I’ll give the cue out front. One sip, then back to setup.

Velpuru, plan confirmed. Thanks for the pepper mill and disposables. I’ll source eight 180 g single-serve congee packs and bring a thermometer, heatproof tongs, gloves, and disposable ladles for the water bath. Hojicha in a thermos works. After 17:00, one sip out front, then back to the hang.

Azura, perfect pairing. I’ll bring a pepper mill, honey spoons, and paper plates and cups. For the chicken congee, let’s use single-serve packs warmed in hot water, and hojicha in a thermos. After 17:00, a quick sip out front.

Velpuru, after the rain I want salted-butter toast—hot off the pan with 5 g honey and a little grated lemon peel, finished with a crack of black pepper. Plus a small bowl of chicken congee with a touch of ginger. Drink: warm hojicha. First, a sip out front.