For five days, the Main Line borough picks it all up and takes it to Lower Merion's transfer station or to metal- and paper-recycling plants. Borough Manager Bill Martin said he knew of no other communities in the area that provided that kind of service.
"People look forward to it," he said. "And it's strongly considered one of the reasons we have so few house fires."
During junk week, the compact streets of the roughly half-square-mile town are littered with mattresses and dressers, toys and TVs, strollers, refrigerators, bookshelves, encyclopedias, and futons. You name it, and someone is probably getting rid of it.
On the flip side, if the discards are in decent condition, as many are, someone else will probably snatch them up.
"I had twice as much out here 48 hours ago," said Ellen Trachtenberg, who was inspired by a book she was reading on "minimalist living" to empty out the unwanted, including her 6- and 7-year-old children's monogrammed chairs. "They were so upset with me."
And what would her grandmother say if she knew Trachtenberg had jettisoned her antique pole lamp with the cobalt-blue glass inlays?
"I love getting rid of things. Nothing makes me feel better," she said.
Her neighbor on Woodbine Avenue put out the toy train table that she had given her a few years ago.
"It disappeared in five minutes," she said.
A drive through town is like a treasure hunt.
On Tuesday in front of the Montgomery Court apartments were three dressers, one a walnut-colored Malm from Ikea in reasonably good shape. Want a minitrampoline? You could have picked one up on Price Avenue, along with a folding table, green recliner, seed spreader, and birdbath.
