Sounds about right...

plip,plop.plip,plop

         Woosh Woosh Woosh; Yap, Yap,Yap 'sniffles'; meow 'scratch, scratch, scratch'; drip, drip, drip;  and a clatter. For my sound blog I choose to meditate in the comfort of my apartment in West Harlem instead of deliberately going on a walk. I thought being in a quiet space would force me to pick up on the details surrounding me. I live in the interior part of the building facing away from the street, removed from the constant noise of the city below me; it's quite nice. I am not a big fan of television and most often you can find me listening to music if I am at home. I live mostly alone with my Yorkie, Bella, and my Black Cat, Osiris. The three of us sat and absorbed the comforting sounds of home, the whirl of the washer as it wrung my towels clean,  the steam which forced its way out of radiator, the drip from the faucet which desperately needs to be tightened.
          At one point, perhaps Bella grew bored of the silence, contributing to the mediation with a few barks at Osiris who stalked by, paws gently patting the floor. I recall vividly when I reached up to scratch my head when my attention was suddenly diverted to the loud spanish language conversation some neighbors where having in the hallway.  At one point I heard the faint nuisance of sirens blaring in the distance which caused me to ponder where they might be headed; ever wonder that? To the outsider its merely another annoyance but for one of our fellow New Yorkers its a family dispute, a fire, a heart attack all the terrible things we hope to evade every single day. These profundities were interrupted by the clinking of bottles in the alleyway behind me followed by the

(Not my cat, just a cool cat giving a thumbs up)

squeak of the rats which I have become accustomed to. At the tail end of my meditation the neighbors above me proceeded with there nightly ritual of what could easily be mistaken for furniture rearrangement. To this day I am not sure what goes on in apartment 18 just above my head. I am sure however, that this is my life and these are the sounds of home; the noises I am annoyed to hear at times, indifferent towards at others but overall comforted by in my little corner of New York City.