Submitted to Redbrick Lifestyle

I like untidiness. Actually, I embrace it. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. On my floor at the moment I can see: ring binders, several odd socks, some clothes, a plate, bags, a few books, more clothes, newspapers, even more clothes and my right slipper (but not my left slipper, that’s probably underneath some clothes). As you may have gathered, the natural home for most of my belongings is on the floor. I can’t actually remember the last time I tidied my room, but it was probably some time before the French Revolution. My bedside table has CDs, pens and an alarm clock all clamouring for space. There’s more paper on my desk than in the whole Harry Potter series. And you know the best thing about it? I don’t care.

I simply don’t see the point of being tidy. If I’m reading a book in my room, it doesn’t matter how much junk is on my floor. It makes no difference whatsoever to the quality of the book, or how fast I read. After all, I’m more likely to finish the book quicker, because I haven’t spent so much time faffing around tidying up. There are more constructive things to do than worry about the state of my floor. I know the colour of my carpet anyway – it’s navy blue and clashes with the yellow walls – so why would I want to see any more of it?

Don’t take the laissez-faire approach to tidying too far, however. For a start, don’t take this “Adam Smith approach” too literally in the kitchen and bathroom. Having clothes on the floor is one thing; growing new species of fungi on your kitchen surfaces is something else entirely. Still, a little mess is almost inevitable, especially in our kitchen in Selly Oak, which is about the size of the average bath.

One major obstacle stands in the way of my rather unkempt state of bliss, and that is the infamous, marvellous, unfathomable species known as women. This hardly defies gender stereotype I know – but the simple fact is that no bloke has ever volunteered to tidy my room for me. I fail to see why anyone would want to clean up someone’s room just to make it tidy. Why? Why?? Why????

I really don’t know. One excuse seems to be that, “It means you know where things are”. Except I won’t. If you ask where something is and receive the reply, “I tidied it up somewhere”; you will never see it again. At least not this decade. Whereas at the moment I know where everything is – on the floor. What simpler system is there? Plus there is the added thrill of finding something among the mess you’d lost for ages, or forgotten you ever owned.

It seems that things have to be tidy, “just because”. Just because of….what? I do detest tidy people imposing their notions of what is good and what is not on the rest of us. Even Anthea bloody Turner is on the bandwagon now, telling everyone how to be a perfect housewife. If anything, that has to be the single most overriding reason for being untidy ever devised.

Perhaps being untidy could make you a genius. Beethoven, George Orwell and Sherlock Holmes were three famous untidyites(Yes, Holmes may not be real, but that’s not the point). If that doesn’t convince you, maybe science will. Apparently leaving your bed unmade will make you healthier, as it makes your bed less appealing to dust mites.

This principle could be applied further. One of my dad’s friends at university kept a pet rat. This rat, from a species famous for living in inhospitable hellholes like bins, sewers and

So next time you are told that your room is untidy, just ignore it. Do something useful and constructive – pick your nose or something. Read a book. There’s a whole world out there; experience it rather than tidy up.

Cory