Our house didn’t have indoor plumbing when Mom and Dad first built it. At the time it wasn’t that big of a deal. You don’t miss what you don’t know you’re missing after all. But sometimes I remember back to what it was like.
It probably goes without saying that the privy also had no plumbing, it is an outhouse. A small structure over a hole in the ground with the sole purpose of taking care of the one problem that unites humanity. More import than the lack of plumbing however, (at least in northern Michigan) is the lack of heat. I dreaded the call of nature compelling me in the middle of the night to make that cold trek outside. Every time of the year is cold when in the middle of night you have to go out to use the privy. And by nature of the privy’s purpose, it was always situated far away from the house, really far.
What a convenience it is to now have flashlights and yard lights. While I’m sure some people had such things back then, we certainly did not. Even if we had the money for things like that Dad would never have allowed for such extravagance. If it wasn’t for moon and starlight reflecting off the snow I wouldn’t have been able to see a path at all. Inside the privy, of course, it would be even darker. “Please let it be a moonlit night!” I would hope before going out.
There are too many things to deal with when trekking to a privy in the dark of night. Snowbanks, dogs, a very narrow path, the cold, and a nagging, pressing lack of time. Every issue demands full attention and I was sleepy and grumpy. The snowbanks are soft and easy to fall into if I didn’t carefully stay on the packed part of the narrow path, which would result in instantly filling my nightgown with snow nearly to my neck. The little bit of warmth still in my body would melt the snow and made my night gown soggy, wet and heavy.
The dogs were delighted that I came out to see and pet them, even though I had no such intentions. They would jump on me, knocking me off the path (into the afore mentioned snow). But the worst part was probably the fact that I was in such a hurry. After all, one never made the journey unless it was absolutely necessary.
Finally arriving at the little house out back, I knew it was going to be a cold seat, usually with a breeze blowing at certain exposed hinder parts. Dad thought it funny to keep junk mail and newspapers stacked there for toilet paper. He said it doubled as reading material. There was none of that happening in the middle of the night, remember- no lights. I can confirm that paper dries nothing, but does get wet and stick to already cold hands.
On that subject, I really appreciate nice fluffy, modern toilet tissue. I discovered that in countries in eastern Europe you still have to contend with paper. No kidding. It is on a roll, and in Romania it’s even pink, but it is paper; cheap, non-absorbent paper, which still doesn’t dry anything. When traveling, I now take a roll from home with me. Hey, may have an entrepreneurial idea here… But back to privies.
When I did get back to the nice warm house, I’d kick off my boots and sometimes fling off my cold wet nightgown and take the time to rummage around in the dark, in my dresser for a dry clean one, all the while anxiously anticipating leaping back into my bed to resume dreaming and sleeping. That is of course when I would discover that while I was risking everything to answer nature’s miserable call, my little sister would have wet the bed! Boy did I hate sleeping with my sister.