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Its Salt Lake Counties Dumpster Delivery Day. See, once a year, the good folks at Salt Lake County Special Service station dumpsters throughout the neighborhoods of the city. The leave the dumpster for the day and then take it away. You have the whole day to fill it up with as much crap as you possibly can.
Like any good holiday, there is a bit of mystery around it. You don't know for sure which day they will be coming until a few day's before when you get this baby in the mail:
It's like a little pink postcard of joy. Then there is the mystery of where they will put the dumpster. Will it be conveniently located in front of my yard? Will it be super inconvenient and across the street and down a few doors? (That's a bad Dumpster Day when that happens.) I've actually seen people camp out in their yards so that when the trucks arrive they can flag them down and direct them to a prime location. It is kind of like camping out for a parade, except instead of throwing candy, they drop of large dumpsters.
I don't know why throwing things away brings me so much joy, but it does. I could never be a hoarder. I just don't have that "well this might be useful someday" gene. Just like the Dixie Chicks said, I like wide open spaces.
And because of that, Dumpster Day is a day of celebration. I literally clapped when I pulled onto my street after work yesterday and saw it lined with dumpsters. My brother-in-law, who feels the same way about Dumpster Day as I do, takes the day off work so he has a full 24 hours to throw junk out. There is a sense of community as all the neighbors are outside cleaning up their yards and sneaking boxes of their kids' old toys out to throw away. Yes, occasionally a fight breaks out when someone has filled the dumpster too quickly before the neighbors they share it with have had a chance to throw their stuff away. And sure, there are the creepy scavengers that drive around looking for stuff to scavenge and hollering at you "You throwin' away any car batteries?" But all of that adds to the celebration and charm of the holiday.
As I write this, the dumpster fairies (note: sanitation workers do not approve of being called "fairies") are loading this years dumpster onto the back of their magical dump truck, to whisk it off to an enchanted landfill somewhere. And I sit in a house that has a few less boxes of Happy Meal toys and a yard with nicely pruned trees and watch. Until next year, Dumpster Day. Until next year.