Monday, October 14, 2013

Dear Outhouse,

    I love you.  I love your solitude and tranquility.  I love your open view of the lake and mountains beyond.  I love arriving to your doorstep to find the outer latch engaged, indicating vacancy.  I love finding the bamboo rod stocked with eco-friendly toilet paper.  I love your sink.

    It's not your fault that my new vegetarian, and largely vegan, lifestyle causes all my shits to escalate from nonentities to dire emergencies in the space of four minutes.  You didn't choose your location a three-minute, uphill walk from my cabana.  That's not your fault.  I don't blame you for the time I couldn't make it back from town all the way to lift your Rastafarian/Yogic themed lid to eliminate therein.  It really is not your fault that I had to duck off the trail to relieve myself in an exasperated, sweaty and degrading act of desperation. As a plus, I learned that using the shiny leaves of a coffee tree are just as effective as not wiping at all and leaves the tree a little less happy.

    Outhouse, I speak for everyone when I say I love you.  Please keep up the great work and I will see you soon.

                                                                                        Most Sincerely,
                                                                                                Max Bramson Benjamin

No comments:

Post a Comment