Nailgun Alley

I live in an old house. A lot of it is kinda dirty. Not, like, fetid and vile dirty, but the kind of quiet dirtiness that comes from decades and decades of wear and just won't go away, no matter what you do. In an old rental like this, it's easy to get slack on the cleaning and caring, because it's never ever going to be pristine and you're probably going to move out eventually anyway. But whenever I start to feel guilty about being lazy around the house, I take comfort in the fact that I am not nearly as lazy as its previous occupants seem to have been. Those occupants inexplicably painted this metal vent in the bathroom white (and honestly, this is as white as that grate now gets):

And ... hey, what's that on the upper left-hand corner of the vent there? There's a tiny rectangle that appears to be protruding a bit. What could it be? Oh look -- I see that it's removable.

Yes, that's right. The painters couldn't be bothered to remove a piece of magnetic poetry from the vent before they painted it.

It says "theater," by the way.