Private

On Saturday I volunteered in the Millinery at Living History Farms again. It was a fantastic day, gray, cloudy and misty. (I loved it, anyway...it was a lot cooler to wear that big heavy dress.) I did slip on the boardwalk a time or two, but at least I didn't totally wipe out, which would have been really embarassing and indecorous.

After several lovely hours of sitting, visiting, sewing on my lovely deep blue and brown hat, and greeting visitors, I realized that all the water I'd been drinking was "visiting". That, and I wanted to go buy some 1875 period-approved earrings from the General Store up the boardwalk a ways.

I got directions to the nearest modern restroom (whew! some sites don't have them) and I was off.

They have hidden a modern restroom, lounge, and washing machine and dryer in the basement underneath the Tangen House in town. I was instructed to go up the walk, go to the left through the grass, and down into the "cellar".

I wasn't sure I could pull this off, I'd not been in the Tangen House but once before. But, armed with my brand new earrings, I set off to find the bathroom.

Fortunately, my fellow milliner gave excellent directions. There was a root cellar with one of the door propped open, and I went down the stairs, successfully not tripping on my skirt. The Tangen House must have been built on site, because it has a modern foundation and the basement is just like any other unfinished basement I'd ever seen before.

After I got lost a few times down there, I was ready to leave the world of 2006 and head back to the slow, peaceful days of 1875. I opened the door (that was labeled "Private" in old-timey writing) and stepped into the muted sunshine.

I looked up the stairs and saw four little boys and two men standing right at the cellar opening, staring intently down at me.

They cocked their heads and continued to stare at me.

I, flustered, looked at the steps. I realized, as I looked back up the steps at them, that they were probably not going to be moving anytime soon. They were still staring.

I was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable.

One of the little boys poked one of the other little boys and stage-whispered, "I wonder if that's the bathroom, maybe that's why it says Private."

Well, he hit the nail right on the head. I wasn't about to tell him that, though. Deciding I really had no other option, I picked up my skirt and started up the stairs.

Naturally, I tripped.

Flustered, I tried again.

And...I tripped again.

The boys and their fathers still had not moved. I kept my head down and shouldered my way past them, without saying anything, and walked on to the Millinery, leaving a shocked group of little boys and fathers in my wake.

I think they actually thought I lived in 1875.