The noon whistle didn’t blow the other day. Neither did the 7, the 1, or the 6. I stood there mid-sandwich, staring out the window like a man waiting for a sign from above—or at least a sound that told me it was okay to microwave something. Turns out, the City says the whistles are just down for repairs. Parts are on the way. It’ll be back. But in that brief moment of silence, I had an…