A clean house is a sign of a clean mind.  Or is it a neat desk means a vacant mind…?  In any case, I would agree with what that theory suggests because I cannot concentrate on any writing or other work in my office if the kitchen is a disaster.  Even though I can’t see it from my desk.  Why is that?

I can’t help but admire the effortless elegance, flow and ambience evident in fine furniture show rooms, the last few minutes of home improvement programs, and especially in Ikea catalogues.  I long for that perfect balance of functionality, organization and serenity in my living spaces.

However, at Chez Bev’s, the sheer volume of pet hair produced by my much-loved animals has destroyed not one but two vacuum cleaners, and could potentially result in the creation of a new puppy every week if I only knew how to knit.  My freshly washed floors stay clean for maybe five whole minutes, and I don’t wander barefoot in the dark for fear of stepping in yet another cold puddle of coagulated animal barf.  I adore my pets, but I’d also like my house to whisper, “Relax here” instead of “DYSON!  WHERE ARE YOU!?”

I would classify my style as Suburban Lived-In, which is somewhere between Minimalist and Hoarder.  I can’t stand clutter, yet I leave many larger items out in plain view because they serve a valuable function.  Sometimes the items present a REMINDER of important things before my brain is fully operational (read: before 8 AM).  Take the coffee maker, mug, and work thermos trio for example.  These daily-used objects live clustered together in the middle of my counter and therefore are unsightly and annoyingly in the way.  I developed this habit after one morning years ago when I found my entire lower half soaked in hot liquid as soon as I lifted my backpack on.  The problem (luckily I hadn’t soiled myself) was closing off the coffee thermos using just the CUP top without the TWISTY leak-prevention part.  Hence, prominently displaying all thermos bits prevents me from repeating that performance.  I guess I should cancel my request to join MENSA while I’m at it.

My office is in much, much worse shape than the kitchen.  Imagine two trays piled high with crinkled receipts, several lists on scrap paper, a box labelled Computer Stuff, a kitty mug with various writing utensils crammed inside, several stand-up folder holders, and an old-fashioned bulletin board crowded with push-pinned notes for my as-yet unfinished novel.  And the piles and piles of ….. well, uh, PILES.  One heap has Urgent Stuff in it (so I don’t miss a deadline).  Another mound contains Getting-Closer-to-the-Time-I-Might-Need-It papers.  I even have a pile of Just-Kind-Of-Interesting-Don’t-Want-To-Forget-This-Stuff!  I have Gardening Piles, Reno Piles, Financial Piles AND files!  The topper is a giant paper daytimer (what if a sudden internet catastrophe wiped out my phone schedule?) with its own obscure system of coloured highlighting, pencil and pen notations depending on the type and firmness of the appointment. I see now that my organization ‘system’ evolved from missed item paranoia.

The surprise winner of the Calm Room Award is My Beautiful Bathroom.  Still uncluttered since its renovation in 2010, it’s sleek lines, roomy functionality and cool colour palette can bring me down from any hypomanic state.  It is easily the nicest room in my home and for a short period after its facelift, I was even serving drinks in there to show it off!  The toilet tank is a great place to keep white wine chilled, but there is limited seating available.  Alas, that’s not where I spend the bulk of my time.

No – lately I can be found either enjoying my deck, or sprawled on the saggy couch in front of the dusty coffee table with a snoring dog scrunched in between, and with a contentedly purring cat draped over me.  I can’t be bothered with haute design if it means I have to get off the sofa and disturb my pals.