When I was growing up, I hated any time that I had to go up to the attic. I was the oldest and was raised by a single, working mom. She did a good job with us and we all turned out pretty good. But as the oldest, I ended up sort of becoming the de facto man of the house when it came to mom needing help. She was such a fan of rearranging all the furnishings inside the central air conditioning of our home. And guess who was the one sweating it out inside that central air conditioning. Right, it was me. When it came to Christmas and then this time of year, the dreaded attic trips loomed. In the Winter, I had to bring all the stuff down from the attic to decorate for the holiday. There was zero heating and cooling up there and I would freeze while in the attic only to come down to have the thermostat setting overheat me. My mom loved to crank that gas furnace. And Spring meant taking all the stuff from Winter up to the attic and bringing down all the Summer stuff. I hated it. That might be why I ignored the finished attic that we inherited when we bought this house. However, when I was really trying to find a quiet place to practice meditation, the attic was the answer. For some unknown reason, the former owner completely finished the attic with a plywood floor, walls and electricity. All I had to add was a ductless heat pump. And the HVAC professional made short work of that indeed. Now, it sort of has come full circle because the attic might now be my favorite spot in the house.