A Nether World

Some day I’m gonna get around to that, Gil would say. And today he did. He spit-shined the old outhouse at the Cabin, a practical if not aesthetic necessity given the flushless aftermath of the hurricane. It was always beautiful on the outside. Mossy shingles and all.

The inside always had potential. Well, it still has potential, but the western half is ready for your nethers. I’ve always imagined that the two seats would make sense for a mother and her child, or perhaps two little girls giggling in the dark, a candle set between them.

2 Comments

Filed under Home, Jean Zimmerman

2 responses to “A Nether World

  1. Thanks for your memories, I can visualize so well the hilltop fields, the forests and the twofers! My mother picked strawberries growing up and always has complained bitterly of that particular labor.

  2. Lori

    Growing up I became very familiar with ‘two seaters’. My uncle had a farm on the top of a sizable mountain not far from the town I grew up in. There he grew acres and acres of strawberries. Between and alongside the fields were forested areas. Outhouses were placed at strategic locations at the edge of these forested patches and maintained for the comfort and privacy of those who hoed the weeds and picked the fruit.
    It was always a little scary to go use ‘the facilities’. My young mind would imagine spiders waiting to prey on my delicate parts, so I never stayed long. Uncle did not hold with spending too much on an outhouse, so there were no seat covers or seats. Just two smooth holes of the right size with one smaller than the other for those of us with smaller seats. If we were lucky there was a bit of toilet paper. If not, there was always an old catalog who’s pages were easily ripped out.
    Those outhouses were not decorative, nor did they sport moss on the shingles in my memory. However, they were always the places where the largest spiders could be found. It was marvelously terrifying when a large fly or hapless grasshopper was thrown into a web. The resident arthropod would dance along the web and wrap the new arrival with silk, and then clutch and bite the coming meal, which always sent shivers and gasps through the audience.

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