My father grew-up with an outhouse.
I’ll survive.
Just remember to take a stick in the winter to knock-down the pile before you sit so you have a few inches of clearance.
When I was a kid, we spent a lot of summers on one or another of my family’s farms in Chesapeake MD.
Mom’s side of the family moved there from upstate PA (coal country) settled down there as farmers... Gramma had like 5 brothers, four sisters ... and they all had adjoining chunks of land... Lots of cousins running around when I was a kid.
Only ONE of those farmhouses had indoor plumbing... so the Outhouse was a normal familiar fixture.
Man, in July-August time frame... Whew... talk about stink!!! Haha!
Yellow jackets, wasps, flies, the occasional snake.
I always cracked up hearing one or the other of my sisters screeching out there at the site of some critter. Always good for a laugh.