Spring is well upon us, and boy, can you smell the garbage wafting in the air? True to its name, Grand Junction city employees began sweeping the streets last week as the annual Spring Clean Up Program came to an untimely end. Since the early 1900’s, citizens have been allowed to toss their yard waste and unusable household items into the streets with careless frivolity through the month of April.
“It’s our most popular residential program,” the city brochure boasts.

I love piles of junk as much as the next guy. In fact, I love them so much I think the city should extend the program all year long. Forcing city residents to keep their junk cooped up through the winter months encourages hoarding behavior, which is a serious public health risk. And while I may not be a compulsive hoarder, I am a habitual procrastinator. One month just isn’t enough time to muster up the motivation for spring cleaning. Besides, why would I waste my time driving to the local dump or Goodwill when I can have my local government clean up after me?

With a little creative city planning, the streets of Grand Junction could even be turned into an interconnected thrift store. Imagine the convenience of rummaging through your neighbors’ junk to assemble a last-minute outfit because you just didn’t feel like doing laundry. With thousands of piles of junk littering the street, it would be impossible for anyone to walk away disappointed and empty-handed.

Not only would a year-long Spring Clean Up help fight hoarding disorders and serve as a trendy, community-based thrift store, it would also give tourists and potential college students a unique view of community members’ personalities. You can tell a lot about a person by the items they throw out in the street. I’m not entirely sure what a broken, retro-seventies couch covered in cat hair and mysterious stains says about your character, but it certainly implies more than enough. I say forget the best yard in the neighborhood, a pile of junk is a much more artistic way to present yourself to the world.

For nearly 100 years, Grand Junction citizens have taken to the curbs and exuberantly complied abstract masterpieces. Why not extend that joy all year round? The people have spoken, and the people want junk. Let them hurl junk.