Outhouse

May 21, 2011

 

You know, I thought the outhouse thing would really bug me.  The idea of tramping across the yard at midnight in the dead of winter was less-than-appealing.  Plus, having to squat and balance over a vat of fecal matter sounded like a recipe for disaster.

 

These past nine months I've realized that those concerns are pretty trivial.  Middle-of-the-night potty runs can generally be prevented with some strategic tea restrictions.  As for balancing… okay, that still provides reason for caution.  But I trust moldy scaffoldings a lot more these days.

 

What I'm having a little trouble adjusting to is walking the length of the yard, saying "hello" to all my neighbors and students working in their gardens as I venture toward the lavatory.  For some reason it feels a little strange to pause for a chat with Mrs. Smith and little Johnny while I do the potty dance. 

 

Nothing like advertising all your bodily functions.