We pile. In this house we pile. Have a piece of paper? Add it to a pile. One of the three on the desk by the window? The foetal* pile under the monitor on this desk? One of the piles gradually encroaching on the dinner table's eating space? ... I have not begun to catalog the piles. Papers? Books? Don't look in the closets. What clothes make it into them tend to hang. But boxes and sundry heap toward the shirttails.
*yeh, the o amused me.