A Canadian horror story: Digging out from under

Are you tormented by the Paper Monster? You're not alone. There's one lurking inside everyone's front door, threatening to appear at the end of a long day, or worse, just as your mother drops by. It sneaks up from behind your monitor, attacks from long-forgotten boxes and dark, dusty closets.

Years ago, I decided I wanted to go completely digital so I could banish the Paper Monster forever. So I ditched the printer. I switched everything to online billing. I took stuff into work to scan so I could get rid of the piles of paper filling boxes in my home office. I reduced my filing system to an accordion file. A little accordion file. My dream was to have a clear desk.

So after a year the accordion file filled up with old things I might or might not need to keep. I wasn't sure how to purge things, so I reorganized with a new larger accordion file categorized by month. Then I could just rotate and look at things once a year. So the year passed, and the file filled, except for the things I wasn't sure how to categorize.

Stacks of unsorted miscellaneous papers grew across my desk. Eventually, I shuffled everything into a basket for sorting later. Then I got another basket. Then I moved the baskets to another room. I didn't have time to empty a basket.

And the desk filled again. So I got a tasteful lidded box to suit my decor and packed everything on the desk into that until I could deal with them. And cleaned the desk.

Then I returned from a trip with papers I collected and the desk was covered again. So I started a new system, sorting receipts by credit card, debit and cash/gift card so I could reconcile when the bills arrived. And the stacks of not-quite-sorted papers grew under cute paperweights.

Now I'm sneezing at my desk, crumbs and dust-bunnies milling around a carpet of (mostly) receipts. *sigh* I just want to have my finances in order and whatever other paperwork an adult is supposed to manage done and out of sight. But the Paper Monster is tireless and I'm not.

In the dark of despair, I hear the voice of a friend. She tames the Paper Monster every day with her coffee - downloading recent transactions and importing them into her accounting program and throwing out the reconciled receipts. Every day. No piles awaiting arbitrary statement dates.

So I try it. I find the download pages for each bank and bookmark the lot as a tab folder in my browser. I get my morning cuppa and empty my wallet and ... Lightning strikes. Paper evaporates in a puff as my online banks convert them to entries in my accounting program (gnucash, if you're curious). I chased the Paper Monster away before I finished my tea!

Day 2: repeat. Day 3: repeat. My wallet stays empty. A week goes by: still empty. This is starting to feel like a habit. The swath of papers still on my desk irritates me. So I pick up a handful - and start sorting by month. I know I haven't cleared this since the Christmas trip. Oh, here's an older one. I'll set that aside.

This isn't exactly fun - boring actually. I take a little calligraphy break to make labels out of recipe cards, one for each month. (I'll only need the last few, but still, it's fun.) I lay the cards for November and December on the growing stacks of faded cash register tape. Oh, here's some from last Oct. The papers are coalescing into shifting card-capped hills. Last July appears. I break for lunch. Nearly there now - there's only the paperweight-topped piles I started for my last system on one corner - those should be from my last reconcile date. Well, back when I was emptying my wallet each week. At the bottom, like an archaeologist, I find April. It's been almost a year since this surface has seen the light of day. *sneeze*

Task done, but vaguely dissatisfying. I take all the monthly stacks and clip them with alligator clips. They fit nicely in a basket. That's for later.

Next morning: I empty my wallet and import my transactions. And recall the one cash purchase from yesterday. My cash reconciles. My tea is still warm. Sunlight appears. No paper sullies my desk.

The Paper Monster is corralled, but lurks undead in hidden baskets.

One evening, while listening to youtube, I confront the Monster. I download January's transaction logs. I set the opening balances for each account and import the transactions. I unclip the first stack in my basket. All the receipts match and are exiled to the paper bin. It reconciles to month end. That was so easy, I do February. March is already done, since I've been keeping up. Everything balances. My finances for this year are in order. My bills are paid. I'm not afraid of what's left in my accounts or my wallet.

As I glance over an import window, I notice an unexpected subscription fee for an online channel that I signed up for a free trial period and let continue. There's 10 months wasted expense. It's my fault for not cancelling, but I contact the channel and explain I've never logged in. They immediately refund 3 months just for good faith and I change my subscription to a less expensive option.

I realize I'm dealing with 4 banks, so I book a meeting to close one account. And I noticed an unexpected bank fee from January's import. My advisor says it was supposed to be free for a year - he discovers another 2 months that were charged last year. He promptly refunds those fees. I never noticed.

I'm seeing a pattern of avoidable expenses directly from not keeping my finances in order. Eventually, on a rainy day, I'll reconcile last year's receipts, to see if there are other refundable charges or avoidable expenses I can eliminate.

Now a clear desk greets me every morning. The monster has been banished ... for now.

Stay tuned for my simple solution to slay the Paper Monster, officious civic mailouts, unsolicited solicitations and miscellany, all.