Sounds...

My cat is purring; I think she'll be making other noises soon if I don't go fill up her bowl of Meow-Mix.
The drills and trucks and workers outside are noisily tearing apart sections of pavement throughout my neighborhood. Hello, construction season... goodbye, tranquil subdivision.
During the last half-hour segment that my TV was on, the piercing cries of a newborn resonated from TLC's A Baby Story. Why am I so intrigued and captivated by a show that simply outlines the nine-month process of pregnancy? Good heavens. I really should avoid it.
The phone upstairs in my dad's office is ringing, but as he is currently out meeting various clients and arranging appointments, it will continue ringing without effect until the caller decides to make use of the voice mail option.
A cute little chihuahua (who, truth be told, looks more like snakebait than a member of the canine family) across the street yips and yaps at the muscle-shirted construction workers desecrating the street in front of her house.
Although the Irish music blaring out of my stereo has a distinct and easily discernable beat, I bang and tap my drum randomly in my quest to conquer the talent of bodhran-playing. It is an elusive skill.
The phone again... it is my brother's friend, calling during passing time to find out if I'll be going to their baseball game this afternoon and if I can ask his mother to bring his black game socks. Are these boys really old enough to be in high school?
The drilling has stopped; someone is mowing the lawn down by Sylvio and Bianca's house, Chase and Gunner are running around outside next door, I can hear an ice cream truck's song tinkering through the neighborhood (this early?), and for the first time in what seems like days and days, there is no thunder booming, cracking, or even rolling in the distance. Lovely.

MEOWWWWWWW.

Yep, I definitely should have re-filled her Meow-Mix.