The prospect of cleaning the room which for some reason I call mine is kind of like everything about the shorter days summed into one horrible nightmare. Has to be done, otherwise moving around becomes a little dicey. And once embarked upon the chore isn't too bad, the odd excitement, and inevitably the mind does wander, a worker gets himself briefly sidetracked, a Red Squirrel revere, then pulls himself together and proceeds along the path to removing the summer incumbent all nice and ready for what may or may not turn into winter of studious, useful and constructive activates.
Something comfortable about the word in incumbent, it comes from bearer, a responsibility, but which ever way you look at it, it's basically a burden, which pretty much sums up the current incumbent. Imagine moving that one out. There'd certainly be an ick factor, a sort of goo on the carpets, a slime, pretty much throw away the antimacassars. But no doubt in that venue the new incumbent, the diligent winter projects incumbent, will not themselves have to do the hands and knees shirtsleeve work, nor struggle with a vacuum cleaner cord, wrestle with bedding, even if an exorcist might eventually have to called in from Rome.