I have been in homes that were so neat and orderly, I had my doubts that anyone actually lived there. I’ve been in other homes with so much clutter that I wondered just how many people (with lots and lots of stuff) resided within. I’d probably never know—couldn’t find them if they were there.
My guess is that most living quarters occupied by humans fall somewhere in between.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m a neat freak—although I am fond of neatness. I just don’t have the time to be that neat. (I know, I know—prioritize.) My main motivation to strive for NEAT is my own inability to deal with the frustration of not being able to find something—the bread slicing knife, the dog’s leash, last year’s tax return (I’d better start looking now.) the scissors, my keys, or my favorite pink lip gloss—when I need it.
I do like the saying ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ I try to apply this message to the area around my writing desk. I want to focus on the story at hand rather than the cluttery (yes, that is a word–that I just made up) mess that distracts my thinking. 
Closets? I refuse to confess to the condition of my closets.

(That is not me. I would never wear those gloves with those boots.)
To where do you swing on the NEAT to CLUTTERED pendulum?

Does your desire match your reality?