December 1st. The first Sunday of Advent. I don’t have an Advent calendar, or even a wreath with candles. I don’t know that they’re all that popular anymore. Even the calendar seemed to have fallen out of favor until recent years. 80’s Christmas was all about gaudy bulb lights, tinsel and tinsel garland, and those plastic bubbly looking Santas. And Jell-o molds. Sean Dietrich’s daily column was lamenting the ignorance of the population on Advent candles. Welll… guilty here, too.I do observe the reason for the season, though. I have a nativity, front and center of the living room window. I never was a Santa fan. Even to this day, I prefer snowmen, reindeer, and penguins. I’m ok with gingerbread men. Nary a Santa or elf to be found here. My candles are red and crème. Anyway. To each their own. You will never believe what I got into. I had a variety of less taxing things I could have done today: go turn out cows at JA’s, go help Aunt Bren with her closet and decor, lay on the couch and read and bask in all the things I accomplished on this long weekend. Did I do any of those things? Nooooo. I took it upon myself to clean my cabinets. “But Amy, you just cleaned your cabinets!” Well, sort of. But no, not clean out. Clean the fronts. I don’t want talk about…