Steven's Garage

Ever wonder what Steven's home is like?  Well here is a small sample.

The scene is a garage.  Though no trace of a car can be found anywhere within.  The space has been converted into a living area/rehearsal studio.  The walls have been dry walled and finished.  The one window has been blacked out, so that all the light comes from the several track lights which have been installed in the ceiling.  The walls are covered on all sided with pieces of foam, to aid with sound absorption.  Periodically, between the foam tiles, there hang framed, immaculate poster of Rush.  There are also a few Radio Heads.  A large size poster of The Who’s Next album is displayed prominently.  The floor seems to be covered with cords.  Every outlet has multiple adapters coming out of it.  Clearly the room had to have been re wired to handle all this flow.  Some of the cords run to the five four foot tall amps placed around the room.  Others go to the computer and sound board set up in one corner.  Still others go to the forest of effect pedals that seem to be everywhere.  There is a brand new, incredibly couch in the middle.  There are also a few folding chairs and a coffee table.  Everything is immaculate.  Next to the couch is arrayed a line of guitars.  All of them are incredibly expensive looking and very well kept, like everything else in the apartment.  The entire scene looks like a display in a show room.  So clean that you doubt any one lives there.  A mini fridge occupies one corner.  Steven sits on the couch tuning one of the many guitars.  He is using an electronic tuner.  He is wearing incredibly large headphones almost comically so.   Steve tightens one of the strings and sighs.  He is waiting for someone. 

Home Alone

Steven was alone.  Susan would not be back for almost two weeks.  That has been selfish of her, Steven thought.  How dare she leave when he so clearly needed her here.  The apartment felt empty, and foreboding.  He never noticed before how many shadows there were, how many dark corners existed beyond the family photos and brick-a-brac.

            The timing was also less than ideal.  Steven was running into ever increasing pressure at work and he desperately needed his him to be a place of Zen.  Without Susan everything seemed just a bit off.  Nothing that Steven tried seemed to break this feeling that he had.  Books held no interest to him.  And Netflix seemed to be suddenly bereft of anything besides inane sitcoms.  Cleaning had also not done his job, which was surprising.  There were few things in this world Steven enjoyed more than moving the furniture around and vacuuming all the corners of his domain.

            It was such a dumb reason for Susan to be going anyway.  Her bosses did not need her at this convention.  The whole thing was a scam as far as he was concerned.  She was a doctor.  Unless they had somehow discovered as new organ, he did not see what she was going to learn by going to Phoenix.  She was probably bored out of her mind in a seminar somewhere, learning about heart stents and new colostomy bags.  He could at least take solace in the fact that she was almost certainly incredibly unhappy.

Steven flipped through the newspaper for the 30^th time.  He briefly considered going for walk, but that involved going outside.  Outside meant other people and places and things.  That would be pretty much the worst thing right now.  Steven was a prisoner of his own devices.  The door was open, but he dare not open it. 

Laundry Day

Steven hated this.  He hated sitting here, in his old high school reunion t-shirt and cargo shorts.  His feet looked ugly in the flip flops he was wearing.  This is what he had been reduced to.  Susan sat next to him, oblivious as she read her well-thumbed copy of Cosmo.  This was not how Steven wanted to spend a Saturday, sitting in a Laundromat looking like a character escaped from an 80’s teen movie.

            This was never supposed to happen.  Steven had a set schedule.  Every 2 weeks, like clockwork, he would lug his basket down to the dusky basement to make use of the Soviet era washer and dryer his land lord must have dug up in a junk yard.  It was not the most effective, but it was cheap and convenient.  Steven could satisfy his laundry needs without having to venture into the world.  That was always a plus for Steven

            But this time, the beasts had broken for good.  Steven had put off the task as long as he possibly could in hoped the landlord would remedy the situation, but no end respite appeared in site.  So, begrudgingly, and with much goading by Susan, he was forced to venture to the local Laundromat.  And it was here that Steven stewed in silence.

            This place was terrifying.  Children, seemingly belonging to no one, rampaged down the aisles like a pack of wolves.  The air was humid and moist from the exhaust emitting from the industrial dryers.  The vending machine was older than Steven and only served something called RC Cola.  Susan was seemingly oblivious to all this, which, which made things all the more frustrating for Steven.  He could not focus on the issue of Consumer Reports he had in his hands.  He had so been looking forward to reading about this year’s newest power drills.

            One of the machines let out a loud, piercing tone, indicating that it was finished with its task.  Steven threw down the magazine and went to investigate.  The clothes were still not dry.  This had been the third cycle.  Repressing his frustration, Steven reached into his pocket, pulled out four more quarters, and fed them into the diabolical machine.  He was not free of this place yet.