The old outhouse was, in my humble opinion, a monument to disgrace. Men couldn't stand up all the way to pee because the roof was too low. Woman couldn't sit down because the seat had pee all over it from the males peeing from a frontal squat position (I'm told this artifact happens even when the roof is higher).
The walls had soaked up the wonderful odors of the corn stew below. The roof had cracks, the walls had cracks...there were more cracks in the structure than the outhouse had spied upon during it's tragic life.
My biggest fear was falling through the rotted floor into the concrete vault below. Of course this would entail me hitting my head on the way down causing me to loose my bearings. The newspaper article would read: "Local man found muttering mindless profanities while wading in a pool of effluence...and bleeding from his head". An enterprising individual would capture it on his camera phone and the indignity would spread the world over.
Action had to be taken. I condemned the blighted structure, and with the help of a reluctant crew, we tore the old down and propped the new up.
The new outhouse was pre-built in my garage. The idea was to limit the amount of time I had to hover over an open cesspool. Noting the shorting comings of the old structure I built a bigger, tougher, and more thoughtful outhouse. The bench saw many coats of polyurethane. The floor was built with treated lumber. The roof was made of clear corrugated plastic. The walls were made from rot proof cement board. Finally, for those multitaskers who enjoy meditation while they're on the the can, a Dutch door to see the magnificent view only mountain property can afford.
Big thanks to Uncle Jerry, William, Dad and the midget construction crew.
The following is a chronicle of the project:
|Pre-assembled structure||Bench with motivational juice||Old outhouse||Disgust||What lies beneath|
|The construction crew||A Strike!||A good foreman knows how to motivate his labor||Assembly||Fastening|
|Old and new||Walls|