ah yes, sitting in the garage, with my lit cigar, the door slightly open to allow a howling cold wind to come in to cool me down, lovely scenery of broken dressers, old suitcases, TV trays I used as a kid, and randomly arranged filth, the light is dim and soft as a solitary light bulb keeps things a light. The dog at my feet content though I won't mention the colorful odors emitting from her. Liquid refreshment perched gently on top of an old record player, right next to the radio giving new insights each night into Elian Gonzales. It doesn't get any better than this.