house sounds

I'm listening to the cantakerous rowdy sounds that come from our house; it's a crazy kind of living thing when you just sit back and listen.
To my left (and around the corner) I can hear a seven year old blasting away on a train whistle, not the shrill kind; it's the wooden one with two holes that blasts in harmony. Slightly beyond that is the sound of a younger kid hooting and pestering the seven year old.
In the kitchen, people are in the throes of preparing homemade mochas; today everybody seemed to want mochas. They are being made by my partner Caffeine Jones.
Coffee drinks are always better when they are fixed up by a person named Caffeine (especially when she has other things to do).
Outside are the sounds of our dog barking, and our housemate hawking her car to some folks she found on Craigslist.
The TV is on, and the tea kettle is sounding off, while from way down the street comes the steady pounding of bongos being played by a meditating hippy shatter the concentration of anyone walking near .
From the yard I can hear more dog barking, mixed with the sound of another distant dog barking; they are having the same conversation they have every day:
"Hey!!"
"What?"
"I'm here!"
"So am I!"
"Where are you?"
"What?"
"Hey!!"
I hear the Angle Grinder in the bike shop loudly being used to weld bike parts into more additions to the fleet .
Bump and Ruby Cuba are using homemade spiked ball and chains (they are called "Morning Stars") to break up dirt clots in the mud pit. I'm so glad they are sober (I'm glad all of us are sober, it's way more fun); those things were originally designed to kill people, but to us they are a tool for muddy good clean fun.