The best holidays I can remember are the times when I was totally left alone and in a writing mood. You know there's something about the fact that in the times of habitually materialistic-seeking seasons just makes the writer in me want to find an abandoned spot at Mammoth Cave and hide out with a flashlight, a 10-pack of 99 cent store ball point writing pens, some Doritos, bottled green tea and a ream of freshly recycled paper to honor the forest in my midst. But back to the cleaning bit. . .

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