S ummer is loud. I don’t mean summer-in-the-city loud, either, with its sirens and car horns and happy party noise, spilling out of doors because the weather is so nice. Summer-in-your-house is its own kind of loud: the sound of people and their opinions, mostly, crashing into one another whilst moving among rooms. Just today, there have been arguments about going to the store and not (we went once and passed on a return trip), who the kitchen timer really belongs to (me, @$#damn it), who has legitimate custody of the latest Big Nate book checked out from the library last week (Marcel) and whether or not one child was lying to another about throwing the fifth round of a board game just to…