(Not directed 'at' you, this is 'at' anybody who is still stuck in the 'but it gives me joy' argument).
Stop fucking attaching emotional value onto bits of crap and shove it in the fucking bin.
When you see something (or more likely, trip over it or have to fight past it and ten thousand others things in search of the thing you actually need), think of your house being on fire and everyone else, human or animal, is outside, safe. It's now your turn to leave. You are guaranteed safe passage if you make your decision right now.
What will you try to get back through flames to take with you?
What will you pick up on your way out - if it's in easy reach - to take with you?
What will you replace within a week if you don't take it with you?
What will you need to get something vaguely similar to in a year?
If you wouldn't refuse to leave a burning building for it, it can't be that important after all, can it?
Get rid of things that would obstruct your exit or provide extra fuel for the hypothetical fire. The things that would get in your way by either just being there or by being aflame - they're getting in your way already, after all, it's just at present they're in the way mentally as much as physically.
Lock and Lock containers give my mother joy, so much so, they have their own armchair at the expense of human beings. And they still take over one corner of the living room and every cupboard in the kitchen. They don't actually have anything in them, though. Rolls of aluminium foil give my mother joy especially when piled up on the sofa, behind the sofa, on the washing machine, on the totally obscured kitchen table and on the living room windowsill. Bottles of soy sauce with different coloured plastic lids bring my mother joy when she doesn't even eat the stuff because she hates salt. Rusty trays that used to have pictures on them bring my mother joy. Videos she has never watched and can't ever watch because a) she doesn't have a working video player and b) they all got destroyed by a roof leak where she wouldn't let anybody in to fix it in case they stole her videos or got buried under the eight foot high piles fell over on them so wouldn't work even if she had a working video player. A fridge from 1982 brings her joy. A fridge from 1984 brings her joy. The ones from 1994 and 2001 bring her joy, too. Seeing the stairs impassable through three foot high piles of clothes she will never wear on each step apparently brings her joy. Seeing her bath unusable because there's a clothes rail in it and towels from 1975 are still piled up on a board at the end of the bath where nobody has ever been allowed to use them brings her joy.
It's simpering, anthropomorphic bollocks. It's just Stuff. Stop buying the books, stop looking for emotional excuses, it doesn't work like that.
You get a place clean and tidy by Not Having So Much Shit In It.