#Container Desiccant

[pharmadesiccants]

Silica Gel Canister

Silica gel is filled in small HDPE containers suitable to fit inside any smallest bottle or container. These small containers have a much higher ability to eliminate moisture from the packaging and retain the product's integrity for longer.

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[xinfudapackaging]

In the pharmaceutical industry, dry syrup is a popular oral dosage form for children and elderly patients due to its high bioavailability and good drug stability. However, the effectiveness of dry syrup depends largely on its storage conditions, especially moisture-proof measures. This article will explore the important application of pharmaceutical HDPE desiccant bottles in the storage of dry…

[xpakglobalau]

[yueyimold]

desiccant stoppers mold

China medical mold maker, offer desiccant tube mold, fizz tablet tube mold, effervescent tablet container mold, glucose tablets packaging mold, desiccant stoppers

[trenicat]

I know out-of-universe they probably came up with the whole vacuum desiccation thing because "the ferengi sell their ashes" and "the ferengi sell taxidermied body parts" seemed too gruesome or not scifi enough and it's supposed to be a haha funny capitalism parody

BUT it is interesting how a society in an almost-perpetually rainy environment, whose religion contains prominent water imagery, has funerary customs which emphasize dehydrating the body. Of course part of it has to do with the remains being easier to handle/sell, but there are other ways to achieve that. I feel like it has potential, there could be something about how the ferengi view the body and soul. E.g., maybe in some parts of ferenginar they believe/d that the soul is water, and that removing the water from the body helps the soul reach the divine treasury, and the practice caught on regardless of whether the original belief did

[desiccantpak]

Desiccants mainly deal with the removal of humidity and moisture. Our products work on the principle of Adsorption, prolong the product's shelf life, and are made up of accurate composition and purity.

For more info contact us:--

sales@desiccantpak.com

[sanjeevseo]

Your Guideline for Buying Shipping Container Desiccant Bags

Shipping container desiccant bags are an integrated approach to keeping the goods moisture-proof during transport. However, numerous desiccant bags are available in the market. It can become a daunting task to figure out which one best suit your needs. Here is an in-depth guideline for buying such types of bags and the key characteristics to look for.

Key Characteristics to Look for in Shipping Container Desiccant Bags

There are various factors to look for when determining the right shipping container desiccant bags for your business.

Desiccant Bags Must Have Unmatched Absorption Quality

Desiccant bags for shipping containers make use of an absorbent gel formula to draw humidity from the air. There are various kinds of formulas which impact the absorption speed and capacity of the respective cargo desiccant. For instance, silica gel desiccant bags will absorb 40% of their overall weight. Calcium chloride and clay-made desiccants will absorb 100% of their overall weight. The calcium chloride desiccants are the right choice for different shippers, owing to the international shipping container’s extreme conditions.

What Happens if You Invest in Less Effective Shipping Container Desiccant Bags?

Less effective shipping container desiccant bags cannot withstand much humidity, the condensation cycle’s intense nature. Besides, they will also reach their optimal capacity before the long voyage comes to an end. Keeping a track of these factors is imperative if you are determined to reduce cargo losses. Additionally, you can also save on unnecessary desiccant materials.

So What Does Your Shipping Container Desiccant Bags Absorb?

You know that the absorption capacity can differ amongst desiccant bags. This implies that 1-kilogram calcium chloride desiccant bags are capable of absorbing 3 litres of moisture. Using 10 kilograms of calcium chloride desiccant bags will absorb 30 litres of moisture. Silica gel desiccant bags can absorb only 400 litres of moisture. This means that when you are evaluating how many desiccant bags you need for shipping containers. You need to factorize the absorption capacity.

Check if your Shipping Container Desiccant Bags are Leakproof

Nonetheless, to mention, your shipping container desiccant bags cannot prove their worth if it ends up absorbing moisture and leaking over the goods. leakage wouldn’t only result in expensive damages but would also result in moisture interfering with the condensation cycle. Besides, it will lead to container rain. This implies that you must also analyze the materials used for manufacturing the shipping container desiccant bags. Also, look for leakage signs when unloading the shipping containers.

Choosing the Right Desiccant Bags

As you have seen, not every desiccant bag is made equally. Moreover, there are various things to keep in mind to make sure your goods are stored safely and remain dry. Calcium chloride desiccant bags can absorb around 300% humidity and are just the right solution for your shipping containers. High-absorbent desiccant bags are ideal for cargo that are at risk of extreme dew points, increased moisture, humidity and cargo sweat. The desiccant bags prevents mold and mildew formation besides keeping material corrosion at bay.

How Cargo Desiccant Bags Battle Cargo Transport’s Common Danger?

Cargo transport’s most common danger is ‘container rain’. Container rain is also termed cargo sweat. This happens when the temperature in the shipping container gets to the dew point and forms condensation. The desiccant bags prevents condensation to form on them.

Shipping container desiccant bags can keep products like corrugated boxes, textiles, pet food, auto parts, furniture, and all other items safe from moisture damage. The moisture-absorbing bags are made of non-toxic clay and small volumes of calcium chloride and can absorb 80% of water vapour, thereby proving ideal for transporting different goods.

[cilicant13]

Cargo Container Desiccant | Container Desiccant Suppliers - CILICANT

CILICANT is a quality manufacturer and supplier of reliable container desiccant bags. CILICANT cargo and device protection container desiccant is scientifically created to protect your valuable cargo from damage caused because of moisture.

[buffetlicious]

The Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋节), a Chinese celebratory season observed by many East and Southeast Asians, has begun. Held on the 15th day of the eighth lunar month, which is in the middle of autumn, the festival marks the end of the season’s harvest and is a time to appreciate the moon at its fullest and brightest. Besides feasting eyes on the moon and lanterns of different shapes and sizes, Mooncakes (月饼), a rich pastry with all sorts of fillings, are undoubtedly the main highlight of the festival and are traditionally shared among family and friends.

The Cantonese Mooncake (广式月饼) is the most commonly found traditional mooncake in Singapore. Its fillings consist of lotus seed or red bean paste and usually include one, two or four salted duck egg yolks. Many would also be familiar with the snow skin variant that was created in Hong Kong in the 1960s as a healthier alternative to traditional baked mooncakes. The fillings and a ball of dough are traditionally pressed into a wooden mould, which embosses intricate wordings of the pastry shop’s name or stuffing on top of the pastry.

A mooncake with various flavours such as rich, savoury-sweet and peppery, the Hainanese Mooncake (海南月饼), also known as Su Yan Bing (酥盐饼) is traditionally filled with ingredients such as fried shallots, lard, salt, white pepper, rose-flavoured white sugar, sesame seeds, melon seeds and dried wild tangerine skin peel. The filling is encased in a thin crust made with flour, salt and lard.

The Hakka Mooncake (客家月饼) is also called Yu Gao (月糕) and is a flat, snow-white disc that is typically made with cooked glutinous rice flour and sugar, giving it a crumbly and powdery texture. It is usually embellished with more intricate designs, often with animals and flowers. Although it doesn’t usually contain any fillings, some come with candied winter melon, desiccated coconut and sesame seeds mixed with glutinous rice flour, sugar, margarine and water.

Easily distinguishable by the red stamp of Chinese characters on the top of the crust and its white disc-shaped pastry which resembles a bright moon, the Hokkien Mooncake (福建月饼) consists of a dry and sweet filling that is made of candied winter melon, tangerine peel, melon seeds, sugar, and cooked with lard or peanut oil. A less common type is a savoury version with minced meat filling. Once known as Scholar Cakes (状元糕), they were given to those who took part in the Imperial examinations. Today, it is given as a symbol of good luck to those who are about to sit for their exams.

Many would be familiar with the Teochew Mooncakes (潮州月饼). It has a crispy, spiral-layered crust that crumbles easily. It originated from the Chaoshan (潮汕) area in Guangdong Province and typically consists of yam paste and a salted duck egg yolk. Other traditional versions of the Teochew mooncake are still made by old school bakeries in Singapore. For example, La Bia (朥饼 or lard biscuit), where ‘La’ refers to pork oil, has a thinner, flaky crust with a thick mung bean or red bean filling. There are also alternative fillings including red bean, mung bean or lotus seed paste. There is also a steamed version of the typically baked Teochew mooncake, called La Gao (朥糕). It can either be served plain or with a mung bean filling.

A Snow Skin Mooncake (冰皮月饼) variant was created in Hong Kong in the 1960s as a healthier alternative to traditional baked mooncakes. Similar to mochi, its crust is made of glutinous rice flour and varies in colour, based on the flavours used. And unlike traditional mooncakes, these are best served cold!

Mooncake information and drawings courtesy of Ministry of Culture, Community and Youth.

[rotworld]

26: Swan Song

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

the sorcerer-king of the fallows is neither alive nor dead. he's the only one who can help you now. you just hope he isn't holding a grudge from the last time you saw each other.

->original work. contains graphic descriptions of gore and decay, forced/political marriage, mass murder, memory loss.

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No one would believe you if you told them that the Fallows were once the gem of Tiralossa. They would question if this twisted, sickly swampland is really known by such a pastoral name.

But it was, and it is. The trees were not always jagged, malformed things, pale like bone. The grasses were green and gold and swayed gently in the wind, unlike this sparse gray prickliness jutting from the mud. Where there is now turbid water and soggy peat, there was once a small kingdom in its budding springtime youth. The boughs of orchard trees grew heavy with succulent fruit and petals danced in the Meadowlands on sweet-smelling breezes. 

There are few who remember it and many who are eager to forget. A curse lingers here. You can feel it the moment your shoes sink into the damp, clinging muck and the chilly fog curls around your skin. The wind carries the sound of distant screams and the scent of blood. No birds sing and no beasts graze. The Fallows hunger for anything that dares to live with a lover’s eagerness. Bodies claimed by the mire remain where they fell years after, preserved in grim, gaunt-faced stillness by the murky waters of the bog. 

It wants you, too. The land fights you for every step. The mud suckles at your shoes and sloshes around the ends of your cloak, trying to drag you into the embrace of the swamp. The trees sway towards you with their twisted, grasping limbs. You trudge through fog that sticks like cobwebs. The wind is cold breath on the back of your neck and a ceaseless, seductive whisper.

“Rest your head, lovely one,” it purrs purrs. “Come back into my arms.” Several times, your feet are caught in a snare of tangled, waterlogged grasses that feel like hands wrapped around your ankles. But you move slowly and calmly, trudging onward through the gloom. The Fallows coos and sighs your name. It will not try to trap you in earnest yet, not while you walk deeper into its forever decaying heart.

You walk until you find the ruins. Only the strongest stonework has survived the ravages of time, crumbling pillars and lone, lichen-speckled arches half-sunken in the mud. There is a circular patch of rough, weatherbeaten flooring that was once fine terrazzo marble, the colorful speckles dulled and covered in moss. The air feels different here. You stand in the center and you think you can hear the clink of crystal goblets and the distant laughter. With a deep breath and great reluctance, you lift your hand and cast the sigils of beckoning. 

“I seek an audience with Erazem, Sorcerer-King of the Fallows,” you declare. Your magic is a weak, strangled trickle, barely enough to conjure a sprout to bloom, but it doesn’t matter. Your call doesn’t have to reach the far side of the Veil. 

The air shifts when you speak the words. You hear music and clattering footsteps, the sounds of a ballroom. Stone scrapes stone and walls rebuild. The old palace does not appear in its former glory but as a decrepit phantom. Torches burn with eerie blue flame and climbing vines snake through the spaces in the walls and floor. 

You see silhouettes, the layered gowns and puffed doublets of courtiers slipping past the corner of your vision. They slink just beyond the grasp of shadows but you glimpse them in those fleeting moments when they dance close. Glassy eyes and blue lips. Ragged silks and water-stained cloaks. Desiccation and decay. Their steps are squelching, leaving muddy footprints behind. Some are missing hands, or eyes, or lower jaws. Are they ghosts or restless corpses? They watch you and whisper. 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” 

The darkness churns. A shadow slips free, inky tendrils falling away to reveal a tall figure in a trailing robe of black and indigo. It was a beautiful garment once, each draping layer glimmering softly as if woven from the night sky, but its luster has faded. The long sleeves hang limp and tattered. The cinching sash at the waist is gone and it hangs open, revealing not flesh but the pale line of a sternum and the delicate curl of a ribcage. Behind bars of bone, a still heart emanates a sickly green glow.

The Sorcerer-King steps forward gracefully, the ragged black train of his robe crusted and dragging with moss and filth. Glowing emerald eyes peer at you from behind a curtain of long, unkempt hair, black as ink and flat with dampness as if he just crawled out of a watery grave. He draws closer, stopping on the other side of a circular tile in the center of the floor with the floral crest of his fallen kingdom adorning the stone. Close enough to reach out and touch. You watch each other carefully.

“Erazem,” you greet him.

He nods. “Consort.” His lips don’t move when he speaks and his voice is an echo, a sound that fills your head.

“I’m not your consort.” 

“You would have been,” he says wistfully. “You nearly were. And here, where time does not truly pass, you nearly are forevermore. The anticipation grows unbearable at times.” He glances down and presses a hand to his ribs, the ghostly light of his frozen heart glimmering between his slender fingers. 

“I need your help,” you admit. 

Erazem’s gaze meets yours.  His lips, dry, cracked and bloodlessly pale, stretch into a smile. “My help?” he echoes, savoring the word. “How curious. Do tell. Would you like to sit?” 

He gestures to an armchair that wasn’t there before, shiny red velvet on a wooden frame. It’s situated beside a tall arched window. Beyond the glass, a raging inferno runs wild across the Fallows. It’s not a natural fire but a magical one, vivid green and moving with predatory intent. It races across the hills and tears through the orchards, snatching birds from the air and slithering up the walls of half-timbered houses to crawl through the windows. 

It does not burn what it catches. It rots them. Skin turns loose and sloughing, spotted with mold and festering necrosis. Joints soften, hands falling apart one finger at a time. Eyes dribble liquid from drooping sockets and hair falls out in scalp-sticky clumps. And they won’t die. The fire won’t let them. They will rot, they will fall apart, they will writhe in the mud and scream until their lungs are shriveled, but they will not die. 

One cannot risk a killing curse against a conjurer, for every conjurer is capable of retaliating with a curse of their own at the moment of their death. And so the fire binds but does not burn, rots but does not kill, and the Fallows becomes both alive and dead, kingdom and prison, for all of time.

Your stomach churns and you turn away from the window. The haunting glow of the curse-fire flickers against Erazem’s face. 

“We are a fickle people, are we not?” he muses. “One day, I am the true king and chosen one. The next, I am a tyrant deserving of an execution that never ends.” 

“You’re missing several steps in the middle,” you tell him.

His shoulders shake with soft laughter. “There is that blistering honesty I have missed so terribly. Tell me, what became of the one who destroyed my fledgling kingdom?” 

You swallow hard. “He was pardoned.” 

“Perhaps I should be flattered,” Erazem says. “To be hated so terribly that the Conclave could excuse the undeath of everyone unfortunate to live under my rule—”

“He wants to marry me.” 

Erazem says nothing for a moment. Eerie, unnatural silence fills the air. His court is motionless and speechless, even the softest scandalized whisper suddenly gone, the dark droplets hanging from the tips of their hair refusing to fall. The air is frigid. The oppressive damp stench of the swamp fills your lungs. He reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek no more firmly than spider’s silk. Curtains peel back and a new window opens on your other side, the light pouring through it almost blindingly bright. You don’t look because you don’t have to. You know what he sees. 

That’s the rosy glow of a castle dining hall you know all too well. You’ve served there for several years now, a royal conjurer in the court of its king. You owe him. You have ever since you fled the Fallows years ago, stealing away in the night to escape a king who grew ever more covetous and an engagement you did not want. Most would not have accepted you upon hearing where you’d come from. Most would have turned you away, not willing to risk the ire of the Sorcerer-King. But there was great need for a conjurer and you would do anything asked of you. Anything at all.

Anything but this. 

“A political marriage.” Erazem’s gaze as he looked through the window frightens you. He could be warm and kind and endlessly charming, but he could also be unfathomably cold and cruel. He liked to hold you when he returned from the dungeons, still drenched in the blood and viscera of those who displeased him. “Ironic. What drove you to him now drives you back to me. And your groom-to-be, skilled cursewielder that he is…” He pauses, turning his cold gaze upon you. Before you can shrink away, he rips at your cloak and the robes underneath. He clicks his tongue when you fight and struggle against him and flicks his fingers, his magic sapping away your strength. 

He is your opposite, as always. Your magic is beckoning and growth, the swell of life. 

His is banishment and withering, the void of death. 

You sag in his arms and he wraps an arm around you as though to dip you in a waltz. He leans in, his hair falling in a black curtain that blocks out everything but the curse-fire green of his eyes. His other hand tugs at the neckline of your clothes until he finds what he was looking for—a mark of binding, raised and discolored like a scar, seared into your chest. “I wondered why your call to me was such a faint whisper. Your magic is trapped.” He traces the mark with his thumb, smiling bitterly. “Why did I never think of that?”

You fight not to shiver when his eyes flick up to your face. You knew the risks when you came here. If you had any other choice, you would’ve taken it. But the binding is unbreakable, as absolute and endless as the fire that claimed the Fallows. You would rather lose your magic entirely than have to coax it from the whims of a mercurial, kingdom-annihilating husband. 

Erazem chuckles. “I jest,” he says. He covers the mark and lets you go, watching with faint amusement as you stagger and fight to stay on your feet. “Such a thing is beneath me. I would have had your heart in time.” He paces, his hands clasped behind his back, circling you slowly. “You were right to come to me. No other can aid you. Even in life, I may have lacked the power to fully remove such a curse. But now…” He shuts the window to your loathsome past with the flick of his rest. Green light sizzles around his fingers and his skin grows translucent. 

You watch him warily, clutching your torn clothes together to shield your skin from the chilly air. “And in return?” you ask.

He chuckles and the sound echoes in your head. “What do you think I might ask for in return, my consort?” 

“Isn’t there anything else I can give you? Anything else you want?” 

He turns towards the other window, watching the Fallows die and live and die again. “I have my kingdom. I have my courtiers and my subjects. I have power unlike anything I could even imagine before. I have life everlasting, such as it is. There is only one thing I yearn for.” He looks back at you and your heart skips a beat.

There he is, just as you remember him. That’s the kind face that greeted you when you first arrived, trembling and afraid in the back of a carriage. Those are the lips that kissed the back of your hand and spoke an oath that you would be free here, unbound by any obligation. He was a conjurer, too. He understood what hardship you had faced, how you had been used and traded and sent into battle. It would not happen again.

“We are fallow,” said the Sorcerer-King, your husband to be, as he tucked a flower plucked from the Meadowlands behind your ear. “We have been pruned and prodded and beaten down to give them what they desire. This is our season of rest, my treasure. You will bloom when you are ready, not before.”

Tears sting your eyes. You love him almost as much as you fear him. “Will it hurt?” you ask hoarsely.

Erazem smiles softly. “It will sting for a moment. A prick to the skin, over the mark. You will not feel the rest.” He holds out his hand, flames swirling around his fingers and dancing in his palm. “I will be gentle. I always am, with you.” 

Your hand is shaking. The air above his palm is frigid and frost kisses your skin. When you touch him, he closes his fingers gently around yours and pulls you into his arms. You squeeze your eyes shut but the pain never comes. For a time, he just holds you. He buries his face against your neck, breathing in your scent. One of his hands drifts down to your back and he starts to move slowly, his other hand still clasping yours. He encourages you to move with him. To come forward when he steps back. To follow his gentle swaying. 

He’s dancing, you realize. Leading you in the smooth, romantic steps he taught you years ago, a waltz unique to the Fallows. His smile brightens when you meet his gaze almost shyly, self-conscious just like you were the first time he brought you to the ballroom for a private lesson. You press close together, chest to chest. You close your eyes and breathe deeply.

You smell flowers. 

Startled, you open your eyes to the silvery glint of starlight. Erazem spins you and your steps click smoothly over a smooth, polished stone floor. You’re surrounded by the revelry and excitement of a grand ball, colorful tapestries hanging on the walls. A star-conjurer has lit the tall, muraled ceiling with constellations and a false moon and everything is deep, midnight blue. Through the stone-framed rounded windows, you see the Fallows—rolling hills and lush, verdant trees, sparkling lakes and thatch-roof houses. 

“Love?” 

You look up into soft hazel eyes. He’s wearing his finest robes, the starry ones that fold across his body with elegant, billowing sleeves and a sash at his waist with silver embroidery, but his hair is unruly as always. It’s coming loose from the single long braid he tied it in earlier, unraveling on his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

Your face feels unbearably hot and your eyes are stinging like you’re about to cry. You look around the ballroom, trying to get your bearings. When did you get here? “I don’t know,” you say, your throat constricted and your voice thin. “I…I feel like I just woke up. Like I was having a nightmare.” 

His expression softens. “Would you like to sit down?” 

“No.” You hold onto him tightly. “Please. Just hold onto me.” 

“Of course.” He sways gently, keeping you close. “Is there something on your mind?” he asks, his voice quiet and gentle. Your heart is racing and your palms are slick with sweat. “You can tell me. I will listen, I promise. I would do anything to put your mind at ease.”

“Would you wait?” you whisper.

Erazem tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait?” 

“Would you…” You look around nervously. At the tapestries with the royal crest, and the false moonlight, and the courtiers gathered with smiles and congratulations on their lips. “Would you postpone the wedding?” Erazem doesn’t answer and your fear builds to shivering panic. “I always knew this would happen to me,” you admit, the words coming quick and quivering with fresh tears. “I’m a conjurer. Of course I knew. This is what happens to us, we get traded around and married off and whatever else we have to do. And this is the best thing I could ever hope for, marrying a king who’s like me. But I’m still sad, and I’m still afraid. You scare me sometimes. I don’t think you mean to, but you do. And I just, I don’t—”

“Love.” Erazem cradles your face in his hands, his thumb swiping away a tear just as it starts to fall. His eyes are shining like he’s about to cry, too. “Of course I can wait.” 

You inhale shakily. Your heart feels lighter. Why were you so sure he would refuse? You had the strangest feeling of deja vu until just a moment ago. “Really?” you ask sheepishly. 

“Yes,” he says. He really is crying. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him do that before. His tears keep coming, sliding down his cheeks and gathering on his chin. “Darling, I will wait as long as you want me to. We…” He stops, swallows, and wipes his face with his hand. “We have all the time in the world.”

No one would have believed you if you told them that the Fallows was once the gem of Tiralossa before, but for just one night, they would. Tonight, for just a moment, they say the fog cleared and the gloom lifted. The thin, crooked trees were great giants with fruit so plentiful it weighed down their leafy branches. The grass was golden and green and pillow-soft, and the green hills seemed to stretch on forever. They say the Meadowlands bloomed beneath the full moon in such joyous splendor that it smelled like spring for miles.

[pharmadesiccants]

Desiccant Canister For Moisture Absorber

Pharmaceutical Desiccants offer a complete line of food-grade HDPE small containers called “Desiccant Canister”, manufactured by ‘SPLACK’, for sustainable packaging of pharmaceutical products. This silica gel desiccant canister ensure the product’s integrity and offers 100% quality control vision by also checking the laser-oriented matter. https://www.pharmadesiccants.com/moisture-protection-solution/canister

[teratocrat]

His grip on my shoulder tightened. "We have books here bound in the hides of echidnas, krakens, and beasts so long extinct that those whose studies they are, are for the most part of the opinion that no trace of them survives unfossilized. We have books bound wholly in metals of unknown alloy, and books whose bindings are covered with thickset gems. We have books cased in perfumed woods shipped across the inconceivable gulf between creations - books doubly precious because no one on Urth can read them. "We have books whose papers are matted of plants from which spring curious alkaloids, so that the reader, in turning their pages, is taken unaware by bizarre fantasies and chimeric dreams. Books whose pages are not paper at all, but delicate wafers of white jade, ivory, and shell; books too whose leaves are the desiccated leaves of unknown plants. Books we have also that are not books at all to the eye: scrolls and tablets and recordings on a hundred different substances. There is a cube of crystal here - though I can no longer tell you where - no larger than the ball of your thumb that contains more books than the library itself does. Though a harlot might dangle it from one ear for an ornament, there are not volumes enough in the world to counterweight the other. All these I came to know, and I made safeguarding them my life's devotion."

Gene Wolfe, Shadow of the Torturer (1980)

[xinfudapackaging]

High-density polyethylene bottles with moisture-proof function

During the production, packaging and transportation of pharmaceuticals, maintaining drug quality and stability is crucial. Solid pharmaceutical desiccant, as an important component of HDPE moisture-proof bottles, plays a key role. It is not only a simple additive, but also an important guarantee for maintaining the stability of medicines during storage and preventing moisture, mildew and other…

[memendoemori]

My stupid ass cat won't eat her stupid food if it is even a little bit old and her hunger strikes are taking years off my life. We now have another new bag of food in a Tupperware container with a desiccant packet in the hope that she will return to her gobbling ways for longer than three weeks

[yueyimold]

compression spring cover mold

China medical mold maker, offer compression spring cover mold, medicine pill container bottle mold, moisture proof lid mold, desiccant children safe cap mold