Damn you for stealing my sign

We used to live in an apartment building which had two apartments on each floor. My husband and I, with our son, lived across the hall from three young women who were very sweet. It was a fairly quiet apartment building, and we never heard our neighbors. There must have been some kind of soundproof firewall, because my DH loves to turn the volume on the television up so far it would rattle the dishes in the kitchen cabinet. Apparently there was no soundproofing between our bedroom and the bedroom of the couple who lived upstairs though. Loud and quick, thank goodness. I would have started banging on the ceiling a la Heckles from Friends otherwise.

When we lived in this place, I had this cute little sign on my door. It was very appropriate for any place I lived. My mother gave it to me. It said "My house was clean yesterday. Sorry you missed it!"

I went home one day, went inside, and stayed for a while. When I left, my sign was gone. My prettily lettered, small, cute sign was gone. I was firstly amazed at the sense of loss I felt, and then the anger hit. I seethed about it for days.

Eric came to my rescue, like the night in shining armor he so seldom channels. When I came home next I found a new, printed sign on the door.

"Thanks for stealing our sign. You can have this one, too."