There's a difference between a dirty room and a messy room. I'm a messy person. So my desk is disorganized and full of junk I don't use and don't need. But I hate cleaning it. My bedrooms during college and before that were the same way. But I'm not a dirty person. I don't leave stuff around that will rot, disintegrate, spoil, or stain. If you see a cup or mug at my desk, you can rest assured that there is nothing nasty in it. A messy person can still be a very clean, well-groomed person. And their house may have unfolded laundry on a dining table, but it's clean laundry and their house doesn't smell like death.
See, I don't eat food in my room. I don't eat food in bed. I don't even eat in the hallway. (I would not, could not, in the hallway.) I've never been comfortable with having food outside of the kitchen, living room, or dining room. Those are my comfort zones. I don't venture beyond their borders unless I have good reason to do so. So I mentioned this to someone last week. I bragged about how clean we keep our bedroom because we've only ever eaten in their on two or three occasions, and only for good reason.
So last night my wife suggested we eat in our room while we watch a few shows we missed last week while we were out of town. As I've mentioned before, we don't have a DVR (yes, Jenny, I'd love to take your TiVo off your hands - I forgot to respond last time you offered). So we have to watch stuff on the internet if we miss it. So against my better judgment and against every instinct I have, we sat in bed and ate dinner. And as karma would have it, my daughter stepped directly into my steaming bowl of casserole and burned her foot. Then I burned my hand when I hastily grabbed the food off of her foot. Then I made a mess as I bolted to the bathroom to rinse her foot with cool water (not Cool Water... that stuff is expensive).
That'll teach me to go against everything I believe. See what happens when you compromise? So from now on, we're not going to eat in our room. It's just too risky.