What Is That Glorious Sound?

What, pray tell, is that glorious sound? I can't quite identify it. Is it the hum of the hummingbird? Nah-uh. The tweet of the social media-inclined tweety bird? Nyet. The nibble nibble of Shmuel the Squirrel? No, no, Nanette. Oh, I know. Is it the wooshy-woosh of palm trees in the breeze? Me thinks not. The splishy-splash of the solar-heated swimming pool? As if. Must I ask again? What, pray tell, is that glorious sound? Hang on. It's coming to me. Be patient. Oh, yes. Of course. It is the sound of nothingness. The hush-hush of nobody getting paid to hang out and hammer and drill and make random noise in the backyard. It is the sound of silence. The sound of nobody speaking a weird hybrid of Medieval English and Remedial Martian any time I ask, "When will you be done?" Why? I'll tell you why. The Vinyl Shrine is a fully-realized thing. We are now free to worship at the altar of the new, landscape-altering A/C units in peace and solitude. Some prefer a Zen garden. We have this:

Ommm....