From the Star Tribune:
At my parents’ cabin near Litchfield, Minn., a framed poem hangs over the toilet.
A septic tank here have we.
On its behalf we make this plea,
Flush only what comes naturally,
And use the TP sparingly.
Please help us to conserve some space,
Inside that yucky, smelly place;
If it looks yellow, let it mellow,
But if it’s brown, then flush it down.
The rules are clear, easy to follow, and, um, fun to say. But more importantly, they make everyone’s time at the cabin a little more pleasant, and a little less “sewagey.”
The cabin, after all, is a sacred space. It’s where we go to escape our normal lives, our days lived by strict schedules and rigid rules. The cabin is both more and less than a home. While there, no one wants to deal with the septic tank if they don’t have to.
While the cabin may be an escape from the strictures of home, it can’t be chaos. Even in this alternate holiday universe, some order must prevail. A cabin must have rules. Precisely what those rule are depends on many factors, including historical incidents that, at some point, ruined a day at the cabin. We collected the following rules, born of hard-won wisdom, from friends and some Star Tribune readers:
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