Ceiling fan.  Tick tick tick tick tickity tickity tickity tlickety tlack tlack tlack flahflahflah flack fli flack fli flack....

You get the point.  Louder than a ticking time bomb... if you could personify its effects, though, similar results to one.  Ever maddening.  Add: 2 police sirens, and a heaping spoonful of piercing cat meows during moments of implied quietude.  A pinch of crotch rocket careening down the street at full speed.  3 teaspoons of children crying on the sidewalk.  A dash of cheer from the neighborhood bar as Germany scores a goal.  All part of the recipe that begins New York summer.

Here we go, Day 308: