I'm a little strange when it comes to clutter. Any space having the misfortune to contain me for any extended period of time will invariably turn into a bombsite, but I can't STAND other people's messes. Every so often, I'll get a flash of how hypocritical this is, and I'll end up going on a days-long cleaning spree in which I become utterly heartless to my carefully strewn belongings and fill trash bags with the resultant purge. Elsewhere, far away from public scrutiny, I will lock away boxes of things I don't use. By the end of these purges, I've pretty much committed myself to a month-long period of pristine neatness ... but then it degenerates. It's a cyclical thing.
The only constant thing in all this is the books. They will never be neat or stacked or aligned. They're everywhere, in a million piles, with their dust jackets at indeterminate locations.
jeez, i'm weird. (and so long-winded...) why can't i just be 'neat' or 'messy'?!