Outhouse Impossible

Sometimes we just don't realize how great life's little pleasures are until we don't have them.  I didn't realize just how great indoor bathrooms are until I had to go three months with out one.  The simple act of using the restroom at night became an adventure in itself.  I lacked the self control that everyone else had to stop drinking water after 6 or 7 in the evening so that I wouldn't have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the outhouse.  It was so hot and I was so thirsty that I decided to face the consequences night after night.   They preferred for us not to use the outhouse after 9 PM so I would have to sneak to the bathroom almost every night.  First, I'd wake up and grab the toilet paper and a flashlight.  I had to use the flash light in one second intervals so as not to wake my roommates.  I'd take a few steps in the dark, then flash it on to make sure I was headed towards the door.  Once I got out of the room and to the living room, the kitten would wake up and start meowing loudly at my ankles, wanting to know where I was going at this time of night.  I had to move fast to get three locks off the door without waking everyone else in the house.  Once I got outside, the real challenge began.  I'd turn on the flashlight which looks like a miners light on my forehead and there they are.  Four glow in the dark eyes like the ones on Animal Planet with the night vision goggles.  The two dogs would wake up and play a game to see who could knock me down first.  All I could see was the eyes coming.  Since I was half asleep, it wasn't too difficult to knock me off balance.  They would take turns pouncing on me from each side and playfully biting at my pajama pants to try and get me to trip. At this point the bugs and moths found their way to my miners light and are entranced by the glow.  So now I'm fanning the bugs from my face, trying not to fall over the kitten and trying to keep my balance from the dogs.  I get to the back of the yard and there is another obstacle.  The hog.  For some reason she likes to sleep near the outhouse.  The only way to get around her is to squeeze between a tree and the barbed wire fence while she grunts a warning not to get too close to her.  Without fail, right as I'm squeezing through, one of the dogs would circle and pounce on me, knocking me into the fence to get tangled.  Once I got untangled from the barbed wire and wedged past the hog I was home free-until I opened the door and had to make sure there were no hopping spiders or scorpions slithering around the toilet.  Do you know how unnerving it is to see nothing but antennaes emerging from inside the toilet!?  Once the coast was clear of bugs, I'd shut the door.  The kitten would crawl under the door--still meowing and the dogs would wait outside peering through the cracks trying to figure out what I was doing in the little room.  Once I exited, they immediately started pouncing again and I had to do the whole thing backwards.  Once I got back to the room, I would creep back into my bed which creaked at every move I made.  I'd lay there thinking there is no way I'm going through this tomorrow, but knowing that I would have to take on the outhouse impossible mission again the very next night.