Every time I meet somebody who excuses the mess of their house, they're usually cleaner than I've ever been. Don't get me wrong, I don't like real messes, but you have to live in the place. My place isn't a museum, proudly presenting all of my favorite possessions in all of their dustless glory.
The worst is paper, especially being a cartoonist. There's bits of paper in varying size and thickness everywhere. Drawings tend to pile up faster than dishes. So if you happen to pop by and I'm not prepared, you'll see three laptops and a Cintiq buried under art supplies and paper.
If you climb over the laundry.
You're not coming over, are you? That's good, because you might mess up my complex organizational system that incorporates Chaos Theory.
OK, so maybe I don't like messes, but if the place is clean it means I haven't gotten anything done.