Jane at Social Reject just jogged my memory, recently buried by the joys of living in a single-family home: “Must you fucking stomp around like a goddamn elephant up there? Is it really necessary for you to slam every door and cupboard in the place? People. Can. Hear. You.”

When we lived in an apartment building last year we could actually hear the neighbor upstairs have sex with her guy. Oh well. Now, all I have to contend with is hearing three runts sweet little girls run upstairs like some night-shifters don’t even exist. And that is hardly half the entertainment that listening to Stacey’s Mom have fun upstairs provides.