For the past few years, my wife has been intrigued by the proliferation of “tiny houses.” You know…the super-small houses, usually built on a trailer, that allow people to own their own home for a fraction of what an average one would cost.
Not only did she think they were cute, but she thought it would be a fun project for the two of us to build; together.
I was both skeptical and reluctant at first, but when she suggested that it could be moved to our creek farm and serve as a weekend get-away, I could only hear, “perfect deer-hunting cabin.” I was on board.
We finished it about a year ago and, if I do say so myself, we did a great job in construction. Sitting just inside the edge of about 100 acres of secluded woods, it has turned into a fun, little camping escape that we have taken advantage of on multiple weekends. But, since the house has no electricity or plumbing, Judy has now decided that we need some “facilities” to replace the 5-gallon bucket.
Having spent the first 11 years of my life without the luxury of running water, I am more than a little familiar with the concept of the “outhouse.”
Knowing this, Judy stated, “You know how they should be built, so build one.”
Relying on 63 years of memory, I threw together a plan that I figured I could build in a couple of days with the scrap lumber and tin that we had left over from the tiny-house construction, at almost no cost.
My wife quickly rejected that plan and we have spent the last two weeks engineering a state-of-the-art outhouse that is insulated, has hardwood flooring, covered with vinyl siding that matches the house, entered into through a manufactured, pre-hung door, and has a composite shingle roof. It is rodent and snake-proof (I think) and has a sliding glass window to allow light in and…er…aromas out. The cost was…well…cheaper than a divorce and I feel fairly confident in asserting that it is the fanciest outhouse in the entire state and quite possibly, the nation.
It’s funny how my life has seemingly gone, pretty much, full circle. I can’t help but think that if the outhouse of my youth had been this nice, there really wouldn’t have been a need to install indoor plumbing back in 1963 except for that bath and shower thing.
Oh, by the way, since the Sears and Roebuck Company doesn’t publish those thick catalogs anymore, I’m hoping someone knows where I could get my hands on a bulk-quantity supply of corn cobs. I’ll need both red and white cobs, please.
