I know when a holiday is coming on. I can tell from the sudden onslaught of staplegun blasts in the lobby. My landlady has exhumed her ancient cardboard decorations from whatever recess they live in for the rest of the year, and she’s banging them into the lobby walls one staple at a time.

I know I should appreciate the effort. She’s trying to brighten up the place, trying to get people in the holiday spirit. But after the cobweb mess of Halloween, and the garish lights of Christmas, I was hoping for a respite through Valentine’s Day.

Alas, no. Now I have to dodge shiny, glossy hearts dangling from the ceiling in order to retrieve my mail. It’s not the reason I’m moving out at the end of this month, and yet, I don’t think I’ll miss it. I’m not big on holidays, anyway, and would rather let them pass by. Except for Remembrance Day, my favourite holiday. For some reason she doesn’t have any cardboard decorations to celebrate that one. But how awesome would those decorations be! Cutouts of Churchill. Model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, suspended in mid-dogfight. Maybe a a little diarama of the Battle of Somme. A poem by Wilfred Owen with a border of dead soldiers. Damn, where are those decorations!

Still, I could be wrong. I might miss these abrupt lobby transformations. I’ve always thought that the main reason I like the Brickhouse is for it’s strange retro decor. Tackiness can be relaxing. Just not when it looks like this: