Sunday, January 18, 2009

Eggcentricity

Thanks to Ella for dredging up this old memory with her post on the secret egg cache….

When I was nine years old, Grandma and Aunt Ease took me to visit Great-Aunt Bertha, who lived in Kentucky on a farm. Compared to my house, hers was a mansion, except for one thing.

Her toilet was outdoors.

I hated the outhouse because a) it smelled bad, b) it was a two-seater, which opened up the opportunity for communal pottying and c) it was in the middle of a cow pasture, surrounded by an electric fence.

As a city kid, I was afraid of the cows.

As a neat freak, I was worried about stepping in a cow patty.

As a rational person, I was scared to death of the electric fence.

And, to top it off, there were eggs in one of the holes, which raised an etiquette issue: is it okay to pee on eggs? And if you do, and you don’t say anything to anyone, will you wind up eating your own pee for breakfast the next morning?

With all these neuroses whirling around in my brain, it’s no surprise that I put off urinating for as long as possible. I mean till the last, Hindenburg-bladdered, about-to- explode minute.

Which is why, when I finally made a run for it, I forgot about the fence.

For the sake of clarity, let me just say this: there is nothing about peeing that is enhanced by having 11 volts of electricity coursing down your body.

And vice versa.

13 comments:

Jan said...

Eggs? What kind of eggs? All I can think of is snake eggs? I hated outhouses too. My parents friends all had lake cottages and had outhouses before their bathrooms were finished. Not my best memories even without an electric fence! Poor Jeanne. And for the record your comment yesterday made me want to cry. And I do read my email constantly cuz I can check it on my phone. The problem is when I need to respond.

Chef E said...

Snake eggs came to my mind too, since poo is so warm it makes sense...my great-grandparents had an out house near the chicken coupe...I was afraid one would peck me in the booty...I never went to the potty so fast in my life...thanks for that memory!

buffalodick said...

Not unheard of to hear stories of drunk hunters in Michigan peeing on electric fences- but sober little girls? That's a new one...:)

Rachel Cotterill said...

Oh my goodness! You always come up with fascinating stories. I suppose you could put eggs in there to hatch them?

K said...

A double seater?

Wow, I never even knew that was an option.

Definitely enough to freak me out.

Vodka Mom said...

omg- that was so funny! ZAP!!


The whole egg thing creeps me out.....

HoodChick said...

LOLOLOL - At least you didn't have to "go" in the outhouse!

Stuart Maughan said...

Real cute. Thanks for the mental visual.

The Blonde Duck said...

How terrible! I would have just brought a bucket.

NG said...

I, too, am having a little trouble picturing how the eggs ended up in one of the holes. Also how, apparently, someone might look into the hole, see the eggs, and think, "Mmmm, breakfast!" But maybe it's just my city ways, so who am I to judge?

Maybe you could have tried peeing on the electric fence...

Belle said...

Snake Eggs? Electric Fences? Great Aunt Bertha's sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Debbie said...

You have brought up some memories for me with this post. But I would love to hear about the eggs.

Far Side of Fifty said...

This was too funny! Of course I grew up only haveing an outhouse til I was about 8. Two seaters were great for not being alone in the outhouse. I never liked being alone. I always took my baby brother with me.
Eggs in the outhouse? Smart Chickens! Who would think to look there?
Thank you for the encouraging comments on my blog when I was so sick, I apprecate them!

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