Are you drowning in paper like I am? If the computer age was supposed to eliminate paper piles, it’s doing a lousy job.

Yes, I know I am supposed to convert all my accounts to paperless – and for the most part, I have. My credit card statements are electronic. The insurance, the bank, gas bill, water bill and township sewer bill all arrive to my inbox monthly. Despite many tries, I have been unable to convince the Pennelec people that this is a convenient idea.

When the mail comes each afternoon, a new pile arrives in our mailbox. Occasionally it’s just the newspaper and some catalogs, but mostly, our mailperson is the bearer of envelopes. She is not the bearer of glad tidings. Just envelopes, lots and lots of envelopes. This past week was pretty standard: My insurance policies renewed. They’re so thick they aren’t folded. Just heavy.

My insurance company is USAA, the insurer for active and retired military. My late husband joined when he bought his first car at age 23. From that point on, all our insurance has been with them, and dates back to when Tom joined. When I am on the phone with one of their representatives, just as we prepare to say goodbye, they thank me for my 64-year membership! I try to use my perkiest voice with them, so they don’t have to speak loudly … and slowly. This week’s automobile packet is 39 pages. Three days later came the homeowner’s policy. It’s only 25 pages. “Please read through these and save.” Fuggedaboudit. I’m OK with the save part.

Recently, Citibank took over my American Airlines Advantage Mastercard. I didn’t ask them to. And nobody asked me if it was OK with me. Barclay Bank sold the account and thus began more paperwork. Everywhere my card is on file needs to be changed. Then the statement with my Citibank balance and the packets of privacy statements and interest rates arrived in a large thick envelope. Over 30 pages. “Please read and save these documents.” In your dreams.

They told me my AA account would transition to Citibank on April 25. Sure enough, I couldn’t charge on my card the next day. But where was my new Citibank card?

From a business perspective, I KNOW they have been planning this for months. I don’t understand why the new card isn’t in my hand the day that old card expired. Come on folks. This isn’t rocket science. I get that there are a lot of moving parts, but you took this on, and it’s up to you to do it right!

When I called to ask where my new card was, I was told by a happy, chirpy person that it would arrive in six to 10 weeks. W-H-A-A-A-T?

This credit card is my go-to because every dollar purchased is a mile earned on American Airlines. I only carry a second card in case some persnickety machine dislikes my AA plastic buddy. This past week I needed new tires, a major purchase. And no AA card. After three civilized but unhappy conversations, this AA alumna got nowhere with any happy, chirpy Citibank employee. All I could think of was the miles that would be lost with summer and travel purchases.

My new card arrived the next day – shipped the week before. And NONE of the happy, chirpies were aware of that! The card came with duplicate stacks of privacy statements and the interest information bible.

My renewed retirement plan also arrived from the bank the same day. It’s 79 pages.

Paper can also arrive in plastic. Every other week or so, multiple plastic bags come containing bottles rattling with pills. Sometimes enough to shake with a mariachi band. Each package contains 4 pieces of paper. I used to save them all – now I pitch them. I have made the executive decision that they’re not necessary. So far so good.

Not so much with Medicare and supplemental health insurance. I’m very grateful to have both but I’m a little leery of pitching the paperwork. I ditch the last two sheets in every mailing. No, I don’t want to appeal, and no I don’t need the Japanese translation. But the paper still piles up. I have an annual notebook for each and keep the notebook from the year before, just in case. I have it on good authority that when things go wrong, they go very, VERY wrong. Better to save.

In fact, I think the stack currently on the north end of the dining room table is calling. Somewhere in that pile is a birthday party invitation and two pieces of research that I need. And a jury duty summons.

Oh yes, there is that one other stack-maker that I somehow forget adds to every pile. I’m a writer. With a printer. Go figure.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com