Steven Thompson, 28, turns up the gas on a burner while waiting for a kettle of water to get hot before washing his dishes on Monday, Feb. 29, 2016 at his cabin in southern Jefferson County. Since Oct. 31, 2015, Thompson has gone without electricity, plumbing and most modern conveniences as a cost-cutting measure and also as an effort achieve a self-sustaining way of life.

If Steven Thompson were the owner of his home and was looking to get a jump on the red-hot real estate market this spring, here’s what his listing teaser might look like:

Check out this lovely charmer a mere stone’s throw north of Lawrence. Bring the outdoors indoors with garden access just an arm’s length off the kitchen. Let that DIY spirit in you wow your guests with this multipurpose, wood-burning stove for cooking and heating! Can you say COZY!

The seller’s disclosure may take a slightly different tone:

This 200-square-foot single-room home uses a loft space for sleeping. No toilet. Seller uses detached outhouse positioned 15 yards from home. Home is not wired for electricity. Seller uses kerosene lantern after dark and in early-morning hours. House has no plumbing. Water can be accessed from farmhouse within 500 yards if neighborly relationship is maintained. Because house has no plumbing, house also has no shower/bath. Bathing can be performed outdoors or in chair next to wood-burning stove during colder months.

The sight of the outhouse alone would suffice to send most of us sprinting toward the loving arms of modern plumbing, wireless Internet and the promise that a monthly mortgage brings. Not Thompson, however, who isn’t selling his home and who has been practicing a life off the grid since Oct. 31, 2015.

Because Thompson's cabin has no plumbing, his restroom is located in the form of an old outhouse about 15 yards away.

Thompson’s abode, about the size of a small one-car garage or a large garden shed, is actually owned by a couple of organic farmers in southern Jefferson County who offered the living space to him rent free in exchange for his help with some tasks around the farm. As far as furniture goes, Thompson has a futon on the south wall and a breakfast table and two chairs on the north wall. Just outside the east window is a sink where he washes his dishes. Positioned against the west wall is a rickety painter’s ladder that leads up to a loft space, where he sleeps inches below the ceiling.

“I’ve woken up from bad dreams before and hit my head,” he says with a smile.

When everything is said and done, Thompson, who works five days a week as a stylist at the Greenroom Salon, 924 Massachusetts St., estimates his monthly cost of living to be around $300.

“I pay for my cellphone every month. I got to put fuel in the truck and insure it, and I got to buy food, and that’s it,” he said. “A handful of hours out of my week I spend working here on this farm to ‘pay my rent.’ That’s our sort of work/trade arrangement. Those three hours are pretty easy to work in on the weekend. My whole personal philosophy on this sort of lifestyle is one of reducing costs to an extreme instead of having to save a bunch of money to reach your goals. The idea is to live for free.”

Although he may have the familiar disdain for putting a pen to a check, his inspiration for pursuing a life off the grid didn’t necessarily come from a love of the outdoors, quiet nights or the howl of the prairie wind. It did, however, according to Thompson, stem partly from a time when he was 13 years old on a 40-acre sheep farm in Creighton, Mo. The inspiration Thompson speaks of, Y2K, is best remembered for the hysteria leading up to it that was all but forgotten once everyone woke up on Jan. 1, 2000, with bank accounts intact and the traffic lights outside still working.

“There seemed to be two camps at that time leading up to [Y2K] where half of the people were convinced that it was no big deal, and the other half were stockpiling supplies,” Thompson said. “Maybe not half, but my dad was part of a contingent that did. The idea was that we would survive if everything went to (expletive).”

Leading up to Y2K, and as the oldest of five siblings, Thompson remembers being responsible for a large share of the work on the farm, including tending the sheep, building fences and tackling other grunt work.

“I was the workhorse of the farm,” he said. “On a daily basis, in a huge way, I had to make sure the farm kept running.”

Steven Thompson lights a kerosene lamp outside his home on Monday, Feb. 29, 2016 at his cabin in southern Jefferson County. Thompson's place is not wired for electricity.

While he explains that there is no nostalgia for days busting his hump at the age of 13, Thompson does admit to a sense of fulfillment through his efforts to take care of himself by himself as a 28-year-old adult.

“It is really satisfying to know that I provided for myself or kept myself warm without paying some company to make sure that that got delivered to my house for me. So it’s a pride thing on one hand. Then, on the other hand, on paper it’s just a really reasonable way of achieving what I want.”

After splitting some logs just behind his place on a recent Monday, Thompson goes inside to put a cast iron kettle on a burner he has hooked up to a propane tank on the floor. A kerosene lamp nearby casts an orange glow around the room as he takes the kettle outside to start washing his dishes. His roommate, a cat named Bubba, meanders around the room and back out the front door.

Hanging on the north wall is a two-month calendar he has written on parchment paper with a star around Feb. 22 making note of the date he planted his seeds for his partial hoop house attached on the south side. Although Thompson speaks fondly of his home, he acknowledges that five years down the road he would like to purchase 20 or so acres of his own and implement the various subsistence living systems that he is currently practicing and maybe add a few others, including solar panels.

“I need a chunk of money as a sort of starter fund. I’d like to purchase my own property and to do this my own way from the ground up,” he said. “I know that I wouldn’t be ready to go do this on my own without any fail-safes like being close to the farmhouse — building a big enough skill set that I’m confident in just going out there and taking the plunge.”