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You ever driving out in the country and see an outhouse and wonder, hmm, what’s IN there?
No?
Oh, my God, I am weird. So I saw this outhouse near an empty cabin. I’d noticed it before, and had taken this exterior photo (left) a while back, but this time I actually got out of my car, scrambled over the bank and through the weeds….and opened the door. And peeked inside. (Will I stop at nothing in my pursuit of the finest in investigative reporting here in the country?)
Here’s what I found:

Mashed potatoes.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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Cole
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Outhouses aren’t my investigative desire, but I’ll just about break my neck lookin’ in peoples opened windows in the evening. Then there are the contents of garages. I’m just plain nosey.
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It kind of goes along with my mom’s story on her blog
http://betzibu.blogspot.com/2007/12/tragedy-of-red-buttons.html#links
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