I want to be the girl with the most cake

My doorbell rang this morning at 8:30, so I ignored it. My rationale being that the only people who would ring a doorbell that early are killers and delivery people, and I didn't order anything.

I found an envelope taped to the door with a note inside. Who could it be from? My downstairs elderly neighbor lady, who once came up in the middle of the night screaming at me, enraged, because I was stapling? A gentleman caller, who, rapturous with enchantment, could not contain himself until a more decent hour?

Behold, in shaky handwriting:

Dear Neighbors-

Yesterday your housekeeper took clothes that belong to us. She got into a fight with my housekeeper and threatened to hit her. I'm very upset about this and want our clothes returned. One item is a pair of Nautica jeans, Size 32x34. And possible other items. Please call me at (212) xxx-xxx.

Lady and Dude She Lives With

For some reason, my initial half-asleep thought was that maybe this was true. Maybe I DID have a housekeeper, or maybe I had done laundry last night looking like the help, gotten into a fight with another housekeeper, threatened violence, and then run off with a pair of Nautica jeans.
Then I laughed (in my head. I don't really LOL.)
Is it because of my ingrained prejudice that I find the idea of two housekeepers fighting mildly hilarious? Do I need to undergo sensitivity training?
I think it's also that the idea of anyone having a housekeeper is way too froufrou for me.

I think I'd make a terrible rich person.