CLEAN FREAKS

For seven years, Heeman and Jenny Wong had a simple home-organization system. "When a room got really bad, we'd shut the door so no one could see it," says Heeman, 39, a mechanical engineer for Lockheed-Martin and husband of Jenny, a software designer and self-described clutter bug. But when their 17-month-old son, Joshua, started walking, they reached a crisis point. Finally, a relative persuaded them to appear on "Clean Sweep," one of cable TV's hot new home-organizing shows.

The Wongs were more than ready last month when the cameras started rolling and three burly crew members dragged cartons of jumbled belongings out of the master bedroom and the home office. The show's home organizer helped the couple pare down their belongings while the interior designer came up with chic storage solutions for the stuff they kept. A decorative-spoon collection made the cut, but Heeman's 10-year-old pay stubs got tossed. A playpen full of Jenny's worn T shirts, old wedding centerpieces and a bright yellow headpiece from a chicken costume were put aside for a yard sale. "There's so much we need to learn about keeping it all in order," says Jenny.

Like the Wongs, millions of Americans are finally coming clean about a dirty little secret: their homes are a mess. And as the outside world grows ever more chaotic, they're desperately seeking ways to enforce some order at home. Every week, 10 million viewers tune in to shows like TLC's "Clean Sweep," Style Network's "Clean House" and HGTV's "Mission: Organization" to watch a modern-day morality play: ordinary couples transforming their cluttered rooms into sleek, efficient living spaces. Women who used to read articles touting the latest diet tips and exercise routines now pore over articles about organizing the glove compartment in their SUV. While circulation at most women's magazines has declined, readership at four-year-old Real Simple, a monthly dedicated to the orderly life, has increased from 400,000 to a whopping 1.5 million. The magazine's best-selling cover: the ultimate closet organizer: 16 real-life solutions.

Recovering pack rats are willing to pay top dollar for a tidy solution. The number of professional organizers--who charge between $50 and $200 an hour--has grown from 1,000 in 1998 to more than 2,400 in 2004. Home-storage products have become a $4.36 billion industry, with sales of objects like wire shelving and acrylic Q-tip holders up a prodigious 10 percent a year since 1998.

How did our homes become overrun by a thicket of mismatched socks, lost Legos and loose DVDs? Blame it on an unwieldy convergence of trends. After a long day at work, most women don't have time to straighten out the linen closet. Although men report doing more housework than in the past, two-career couples still don't keep house as their mothers did. Even families with a stay-at-home spouse have trouble getting organized, because they're buying too much and throwing away too little. Decades of unprecedented prosperity, coupled with relentless advertising and cheaply produced goods from abroad, have created a perfect storm of overconsumption. "Back in our grandparents' day," says Barry Izsak, president of the National Association of Professional Organizers, "people didn't have 25 pairs of black pants, 30 ivory blouses and 30 pairs of shoes. There are just too many choices."

For many people, the clutter is so out of control that it has begun to eat up a resource even more precious than disposable income: time. Houses have gotten bigger: in 1970 the average new single-family house measured 1,400 square feet; today it's around 2,300. But that's still not enough space for the ever-expanding detritus of daily life. According to a study conducted by a Boston marketing firm, the average American burns 55 minutes a day--roughly 12 weeks a year--looking for things they know they own but can't find.