Lovely Shades of Me

The Meeting

A thick bead of sweat dripped off my forehead. I had been crawling around in this attic since seven this morning. Judging by my increasing perspiration and from the subtle growling from my stomach, I was sure it was almost lunch time. My thermos of coffee was long gone. Coffee! Lunch! Damn.

I completely forgot about the Brunch Lunch meeting I had this morning. The thought of sipping mimosas while trying to secure a contract made me want to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I loved mimosas as much as the next gal, but how exactly was I suppose to prove myself better than the guys over mimosas? It is hard enough to get most men to respect me once they realize I am, in fact, female. Occasionally I had to use my family name to keep investors from walking away. There was a fine dance between being confident as a woman contractor and having to use my clout as a Hamilton. But I left all of that up to Josh. He was the one that made all of my appointments.

Josh had already rescheduled this meeting for me twice, standing up the richest man east of the Mississippi River  for a third time would not be an option. I glanced down at my watch; 11:22.

"Damn damn." I mumbled to myself in my best Doc. Brown impression even though no one could hear me.

My own geeky little "Back to the Future" reference made me laugh at myself. It was the little things that kept me going, sweating like a bulldog in this Georgia humidity.

I stretched out, in what I was sure was some sort of yoga pose, to reach around a beam and into my tool belt to grab my phone. I was positioned like a gymnast (a clumsy one) on a beam at the tippy top of this historical, mid century gothic style home. This type of home is a rare sight in the deep south. Admiring it from the top like this is like a breath of fresh air.

But the attic of this home was a complete waste of space. Where I sat wedged between the roof and the beam, there was not a lot of room. I could barely move around up here. However, below me there was an 8 foot drop and a decent size room that was completely being wasted as an attic. It was like a blank canvas. A little dry wall, some paint, flooring...I let my mind wander a bit. From my position overlooking the attic, I could see so much for this room. So much potential here.

If I were doing a complete remodel of this home, and not just a simple repair, I would turn this space into a beautiful office for the reverend. I could imagine a built-in bookcase full of hymnals. The desk would go there, near the window. From this high up you could see the church.

The church where I grew up and my mother and father were married, and my grandparents before them. The church where my mother prayed every week that I would some day "come to my senses" and "settle down." Since the day I was born she visioned me getting married in that very church. At this point, I am not sure that will ever happen. At 33 years old, I wasn't exactly a spring chicken. It is not that I didn't want to get married. But for the past decade, I have been married to my work. And I loved my job.

This! This right here. Sitting in the silence of an old house, letting it speak to me. This is why I LOVED my job. I loved getting to see a blank canvas of walls and envision the future it could hold.

Of course, I was only dreaming. The church budget wouldn't allow for such a major remodel for the parsonage. They could barely afford to pay me to repair this attic fan. The deacon scoffed at the idea of removing the attic fan completely and modernizing this old house a bit. The old reverend and his wife couldn't afford to remodel this space and pay out of pocket. I could donate the work and maybe even use it as a tax write off. If I could snag this new investor I might need the tax right off. THE INVESTOR! Shit! I let my mind wander again.

The tips of my fingers were covered in so much dust and dirt that I was initially denied access to my phone. To be honest, I am not sure why I even have fingerprint access on this stupid phone. My fingers are never clean enough to actually activate it. As I was punching in the last digit of my pass code, the phone slipped out of my hand. It landed on the attic floor below with a loud "CRACK."