They said home ownership was not a fun club to join. They said, home maintenance costs are so high, you just enter into a state of suspended disbelief when you see the bills. The energy auditor said: this is how much money you will save with foam insulation! The local handyman said, fiberglass insulation is cheaper than foam and you can install it yourself.
So the attic is where Grace found herself on a cool day in late September, assessing the sadly under-insulated space. She would clean the attic as well as she could, and perform her own inexpert installation. Wearing her oldest clothes, and with broom and dustpan in hand, Grace began sweeping the dirty floorboards. Around the edges, where the roof slanted down and met the floor, there was a perimeter without boards. This was where she would roll out the pink R-30 , laying the batts perpendicular to the joists, as she had watched in countless videos online. She began sweeping, her mind flattening to a steady workday bass line.
Neither her book shelf stocked with home DIY guides nor the short stack of rebate and tax incentive brochures about home energy efficiency had prepared her for home ownership as a single woman. This was a stiff, maybe impossible challenge. Some days, she felt proud of her gumption and independence. Other days, she thought she was an ignorant fool to have bought this house. As she worked, she thought about how the insulation was surprisingly expensive, so just a few rolls had made a good dent in her meager savings for the month.
This was an odd time in her life, when she became excited about small revelations, like the late summer flowers blooming in her new yard. On the other hand, this year had also brought an unwelcome surprise: a basal cell carcinoma on her face. She had undergone a minor dermatological procedure earlier in the spring, and although the cancerous cells had been removed, she was now on a payment plan for the balance of that procedure. All of these financial commitments and surprises kept her awake at night. She routinely lay in bed at night worrying about how cold the house would be that winter, or how long it would take to pay off her medical bills.
In the evenings after work, she often caught up on yard care. She knew many of her neighbors had challenges similar to her own. She had a brief conversation with her neighbor, who mentioned he had signed up for the electric company's home energy assistance program after he had received a surprisingly large bill. Another neighbor struggled to mow her lawn with an old riding lawn mower that always needed a jump start. Grace wondered how to simplify, to streamline, but still enjoy life in her new home. But most of the time she felt careworn, like her spirit had thinned.
Shortly after she had begun the attic insulation project, Grace had a long but troubled night of sleep. It was Saturday, and she had worked harder in the attic than she did on most weekdays at work. She slid into bed and released her body fully into the soft blankets. The sound of field crickets and a distant barred owl lulled her, seeming to pull her gently downward into a deep cocoon. She was cradled, and pleasantly warm, until the surroundings took on a vaguely pink hue and became too warm. Her soft cocoon became scratchy, and the alarming pinkness enveloped her arms, shoulders, head, and mouth.
Grace startled awake, one foot dangling out of the bed, an unconscious escape move. She sat up and took a long drink of water from the glass on her nightstand. She rarely had nightmares, and certainly not anything as terrifying as suffocating! It almost made her laugh, and she smiled to herself once she calmed down. She could appreciate the grim humor when she recognized what had brought on the nightmare: that damn pink attic insulation! She flopped back down onto the bed and slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
A couple of days later, the attic was finished. It was a scrappy effort, and she stopped watching videos that warned of gaps where air could come in when insulation was not installed properly. Instead she focused on her job, and catching up on other tasks she had ignored the past few days. It was the middle of the week when she received an unexpected message from her credit card company alerting her to unusual activity on her credit card. She immediately called the company and was connected to a customer service representative.
"Hi, I received a message about unusual activity on my account. I'm logging in now," she added. She pulled up her account and scanned the current statement.
"Yes, this one is a little odd. The amount is only for one dollar," the customer service representative pointed out. "But it was detected as unusual based on your history, so it automatically triggered a warning about potential unauthorized charges."
"One dollar..." She scanned. There it was, the transaction date was last Saturday night. "It says," she paused. "It says the vendor is TIME 2 BREATHE".
"These fraudulent charges often have rather cryptic descriptions," he told her. They confirmed it was not a charge she had authorized, and he told her they would flag the vendor and keep an eye on her account for a few days.
The next weekend, her friend Rocío came by for lunch, and they sat together on the front porch catching up. Rocío worked in the kitchen at a local resort that featured farm to table cuisine, with fresh local vegetables, cheeses, and meats. Occasionally Rocío brought leftovers, especially the appetizers and small plate items that she liked to create. Many of these foods had roots in her native Mexico, where her grandmother cooked for her when she was a toddler before Rocío had come to the United States. While they sat together eating, Grace told her about her insulation project. Rocío was helping to plan a brand new menu that she loved, and shared stories about the resort's guests whom she did not always love. They alternately laughed and commiserated.
"I feel so stressed about money", Grace admitted finally.
"I do too. I send as much money home to my family as I can," Rocío hesitated; she rarely spoke of her financial support to her family in Mexico.
"But you need to take care of yourself, too." Grace added simply.
"Yes, and I worry that my mother will ask me to sponsor my younger sister when she is old enough to immigrate to the United States. I may need a second job."
"Oh, Rocío." Grace said helplessly. There was nothing to say; she could not imagine supporting her parents, and a sister. She could not imagine how much it might cost to sponsor a new immigrant. She searched for a lighter topic. "I think my credit card is haunting me," she announced.
"Excuse me?"
Grace told her of the dream about suffocating, then pivoted to the fraudulent activity on her credit card. "The vendor was TIME 2 BREATHE. And the transaction date was Saturday night! Is it just me or is that weird?"
Rocío laughed, and said, "Yes, and strangely motivational. It sounds like you need to stop worrying so much and find some balance. I should too," she admitted.
"Maybe we can find some online yoga lessons, or guided meditation. " Grace wondered, "Do you think the credit card ghost will have something to say?"
"I think it already did."