A tidy home? I'll drink to that

Boulevardier, from Jennifer McCartney's "Cocktails for Drinkers": Mix 1 part each bourbon, sweet vermouth and Campari. Serve over ice with an orange twist.

It’s all about the booze. That’s one possible take-away from Jennifer McCartney’s: "The Joy of Leaving Your Sh*t All Over the Place.” My sister passed along this hilarious slender book that’s the antidote to Marie Kondo’s KonMari way.

The KonMari method, for those who have been blissfully living without exposure to it, is outlined in Kondo’s “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying: A Simple, Effective Way to Banish Clutter Forever” which has been dwelling on the bestseller lists for eons. I read her book last year in one of my January fits of self-improvement/introspection/general funk. It contains a few kernels of useful information. If it had been confined to a 10-page pamphlet instead of 300-plus relentlessly repetitive pages, it would have been a fine enough thing.

Here’s my summary, so you don’t have to read it:

Kondo urges purging/then organizing your possessions in a rip-the-bandage-off approach as the key to finally gaining control without backsliding. None of this 15-minutes-a-day approach in her book. Most of us would need to take at least a week off and therapy to accomplish/recover from this, but I’m guessing it works better in small Japanese dwellings.

Your are to tackle your purge/organization by category, bringing all possessions of like kind together, regardless of where they were housed, so you can evaluate a category of items in its entirety and store all like items together. Start with clothes as the easiest target; move on to books, then CDs and DVDs, then paperwork, then mementos.

She tells you to evaluate each item to see if it sparks joy. If not, out it goes, after having been properly thanked for its service. (This, interestingly, is the opposite of most decluttering advice, which cautions you not to touch your possessions unnecessarily lest it increase your attachment.)

It’s not bad advice for how about to go about a purge, and I was finally able to hang up some clothes in a closet after one bout of KonMari fever. But I’m unlikely to fold my shirts so they can be stored in drawers vertically, take out the contents of my purse daily or get rid of books I haven’t read in a year, suggesting you could just buy the book again (!) if you wanted to read it later. She totally lost me with that last one.

McCartney’s tome, on the other hand, will no doubt be taken as comedic hyperbole, not actual advice, but it’s a highly therapeutic read in a my-cheeks-hurt kind of way. One takeaway: Enjoy your damn life and step over the mess on the way to get a drink to calm down and not be so uptight about it.

I fall somewhere in between the two extremes. I’ve got enough OCD that I suffer from “surface tension” when things aren’t put in their proper place, or worse yet, lack a proper place. But I like stuff. And not just the stuff that sparks joy, like my few bits of Cottura pottery, but stuff that’s simply useful. I won’t say that my giant coffee maker sparks joy, but sometimes you need one, even if it isn’t every year.

Besides, stuff is part of your backstory; it tells you a lot about how you got to be where you are. We got that coffee maker for what turned into a giant baby shower with an out-of-control guest list for a lovely co-worker. I’m pretty sure that kid is old enough to vote now, and that coffee maker has stayed bought, coming out for a friend’s post-wedding brunch and other events that result in trips down memory lane.

But I can’t just leave things lying around like a carefully staged Ralph Lauren commercial, where whips and leather-bound tomes are artfully piled. For one thing, my piles aren’t artful, and for another thing, that kind of delightful chaos only works if the backdrop is Highclere Castle and you’ve got some Turners hanging on your walls. It does not give you an excuse to leave your bedding carefully rumpled (I’m looking at you, pricey Airbnb rental photos.)

My version of a January purge definitely hit a middle ground between the KonMari-McCartney approaches. I did an inventory of what’s in my freezer space, removed several random bits of bread and made a favorite strata. Low and behold there was finally room to store the horseradish vodka (a recent Christmas gift from friends) in its best home: the freezer, where it’s ready for pairing with appetizers like these. So, yes, McCartney is right; it’s all about the booze. And if you read too much of Kondo’s prose, you’re going to need it.

Oh, and that drink? Very tasty, at least if you adore Campari.