The type of strange older man you get in second-hand bookshops are my experience of hoarders. A collection has focus, I don't consider "anything made of paper" to be defined enough to count! Literally had to walk sideways to slide between the floor to ceiling stacks of paper ephemera. Every corridor and room was stuffed, I'm amazed the upstairs floors hadn't just collapsed. Much of it was fascinating (or looked to be had it been accessible) but dangerous as you like. One collapse and you'd be buried and crushed, or perhaps just suffocate? Never did find the 1970's newsagent Marvel UK posters I was after, getting as far down as "this is a 1983 edition, we're getting close" was enough for me
Saw one of those wifeswap programs a while back, US based. Actually, I think they did a husband swap this time. Double garage was floor to ceiling up to the doors, new kids bikes at the front as the old ones were too far back to access. Main memory is of their downstairs loo/shower room which hadn't been used in donkeys as it was stuffed full of value size packs of toilet roll. There was pallette loads of the stuff in there. If saving $5 on toilet paper is of higher value to you than that cubic footage (which costs what on the mortgage each month?) then I think you've moved beypond spendthrift and into hoarding

Not to mention stinky kids! I won't go into the paper plates mess!
Cheers, B.