Voyage of discovery

Even prior to my family roadtrip in Florida, I'm finding out things about myself.
My landlord has decided to have hardwood flooring put down throughout the house, starting just as I return. To facilitate this, I've been packing up all my loose items, of which there are many.
I confess: I am a packrat. Especially of ephemera. That, for those without a classical education, is something, usually printed on paper, that is not of a timeless quality, and would normally be thrown away; books are not ephemera, movie tickets are. I have a lot of ephemera. Not movie tickets, so much (though I always find one or two stubs that never made it into the trash whenever I clean up), but clippings and articles that I will surely need at some point to research a topic for an article or novel or (from here on in) my blog.
There is enough other detritus (miscellaneous computer cables to long-departed accessories, unmarked decanters half-full of now-unknown whiskies, loose screws and bolts without corresponding nuts, empty CD holders) to fill several plastic tubs (what, you thought I was going to throw that away?), but mostly it's loose, sliding piles of unsorted and uncataloged paper. (Whatever happened to the paperless office? Even if there is one, I don't live there. Given my love of printing, I'm not sure I really want to. I just want enough space, and time, to sort it all out. Sort of like that scene in the Matrix: "We're going to need paper. Lots of paper."
If there is a God of Trees (and, if Tolkien is to be believed, surely a vengeful one), I'm definitely in trouble when I die...