I had come to a conclusion a long time ago that I love cleaning my house. It isn't cleaned all the time, nor is it clean all the time, it all depends.
I'm like the Monica of Friends, only a little less compulsive - I hope. My party starts when yours is over. You're in your glitters and gowns, I'm in my apron and gloves, vacuuming and scrubbing like a true Cinderella wannabe.
And with all the dirt and dust and stains removed, so would the clutters in my head. That's how clean I clean.
Now, who said "A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind" again?