Interlopers

Some things in the Canada House have been different recently. Can you guess?

Hint: it has to do with the Canadian military.

So the Canada House has been for sale for quite some time. Which was obnoxious, as people would traipse through, checking things out (and flushing the toilets - weird). It was finally purchased, and instead of waiting one month for the current tenants (ie the International House of Pancakes Peeps) to move out, the new owner and a friend have moved in. Along with all of their stuff.

The new people are both dudes, military dudes, gay military dudes - Canada Steve, who is my authority on all things Canada, says that the Canadian military doesn't care about a soldier's sexuality, only his/her ability to kill things.

It is pretty uncomfortable. The whole dynamic of the house has altered. Flatmate Andrea and I are attempting to reclaim it: sitting downstairs working like usual.

There are two sets of living room furniture: the crappy grad student set and the fancy House Beautiful leather set. The house smells like Pottery Barn - that weird unnatural potpourri smell. (They also tried to put my tea kettle in the dish washer. As if! That gem is hand-wash only.)

What truly freaks me out about the new guys is twofold.

1). They have no books. How can I really judge somebody if there is nothing on a bookshelf? Andrea tried to be kind and said that maybe all of their books are in boxes. But their boxes are big, big enough that if they are full of books, attempting to pick one up would kill you (I know this from experience). And besides, they have no bookshelves.

Correction - they have four books. The one guy brought them with him. And they were the complete hardcover set of the Twilight books.

2). Their artwork freaks me out. I've never been in a real place where the art was selected in order to coordinate with the decor of the room. I don't want to get all judge-y regarding their paintings, so I've photographed the most remarkable and put them here, for you to judge. My introductory sentences are judge-y though: I can't help it. I'm a judger.

This has a surface texture that corresponds to nothing: I think it was applied as a plastic sheet afterwards.

Some poser's Albers Study. There are multiple of these in the house, the colors only in different arrangements.

I think this is the Sydney Opera House. But I'm not sure I want to commit to that statement.

I can't even begin to imagine where this will go. Or why it was acquired.

This painting of lemons is done in acrylic. I could recreate it exactly (if I wanted to) because there is a certificate of authenticity on the verso that lists which paints were used to make it. So if I choose to forge it, I know to purchase the Liquitex Acrylics as opposed to the Golden Acrylics...

Any way, it is currently hanging in the dining space off the kitchen. It has no hanging hardware - the strainer is simply resting on a nail in the wall. So I took the liberty of reinstalling it. Upside down. We'll see how long it takes for somebody to notice and adjust it.

Judge away.