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When I was in third to fifth grade, I had a friend whose parents had bought a house that had been part of an estate; it was a working farm, sold by the family of an elderly couple at the woman's death; the elderly couple had done few updates to the house. It had a chicken coop, push-button light switches (instead of vertical switches) and an outhouse. There was an electric pump on the well, but the water was well water. This would have been the early seventies, and the girl and I were friends for a few years in elementary school.
We used to spend the night at each other's houses, and if I recall correctly, it took them a year or so to come up with the money and chop out the space for an inside bathroom, so the first winter they were in the house we used the outhouse when I spent the night there. I remember it was a two-holer, and my friend, her younger sister and I used to bolt out there with our coats and boots on over our nightgowns, trying not to drop the flashlight, squealing and giggling like it was some kind of adventure. I guess it was, for kids who'd presumed things like inside toilets and fan-forced heat -- the first winter they were there, the entire four-bedroom house was heated with a Franklin stove in the middle of the living room, too, so it was colder than stink at night; we used to pile five or six blankets on the bed, and sometimes the three of us would crawl into the same bed just to stay warm enough.
I also remember my grandmother lived in a rented house when I was a kid. The house had a 'stool' (toilet) and a sink inside, but my grandmother resented the fact that the landlord chopped an eight-by-eight chunk out of her kitchen to put it in; she would have been happy to go to the outhouse, she'd done it all her life. She bathed in a galvanized tub with water she heated on the stove (she didn't even have a water heater until she moved across the street into a Metro Housing apartment complex for the elderly, and she always kind of seemed to resent that so much of the space inside was given over to the bathroom, and so little to the kitchen). One thing she did like was having, after seventy-odd years of life, a shower; she realized she actually quite liked hot water on demand and not splashing water all over the place.
There was, until about a decade ago, an abandoned outhouse behind my folks' house, too. When my mother found out she was pregnant with me, she told my dad if he didn't put in an inside toilet and bath, she was going to move in with her mother until I was out of diapers, so he'd better think long and hard about it. He put in a bathroom and a tub. They 'decommissioned' the outhouse; I think Dad just poured the hole in the ground full of gravel and concrete, and he used it as a storage shed for the lawn mower. About ten years ago, he finally tore it down and built a small garden shed in the spot, but there was one in the back yard when I was a kid.
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