It's funny how extremes can provoke you to go too far in the other direction. I was so horrified by the Collyer brothers' story, combined with the lifestyles of a couple of Collyer-ish friends, that I've become so averse to paper that I don't even bring the newspaper in the house any more. I'm retired and rarely eat at home, so the paper travels with me in my truck and I read it when I go out to eat. What I can't read in a day goes to the trash. My mail gets the same treatment. It goes into a briefcase where it sits for a couple of months until the sheer volume of it forces me to head for the neighborhood bar where I sort it all out, throwing nearly everything away.
I think the writer got it right when he said there are people who just don't know what to do with the stuff when it comes into the house. I'm like that. So I don't bring it in to begin with.