The Black Hole

Here it is, the unfixable area, the quandry, riddle, enigma, dark secret of my house.  It has been undefined from the first time we looked at the house with the realtor, a pass through room that has become a dumping ground.  I don't like anything about it.  I never have, and I fear that I never will.
Due to the age of our lovely old farmhouse Robert wants to move the TV and sectional into this room because it is so much warmer in the winter and we would have a more formal (meaning easier to keep clean) area downstairs.  But of course this means we have to clean this mess first.
So this is where we begin: