It's my bathroom and I'll cry if I want to

If I was not so grossed out by my hemorrhoids or fissures or whatever is chafing my butt, you would have to agree that I am the toughest and baddest man in the whole damn town, no, the whole world.

Alas, I am too grossed to give the blow-by-blow of how I get medicine up in my cute little tushy. Suffice it to say it involves a lot of groaning, heroic grips, Plastic Man-like wrapping of the Super Pole and more.

I had to wait until after all the post-Thanksgiving party left before attempting this Herculean feat of medicating myself. For one thing, I didn't want to scare them off with the grunts and groans (I am reading a story about zombies and have decided that the chilling moans of the zombies probably sound like I do when I am doing anything.)

The other reason, and high on my list of why a house full of people can about knock me out: People close the bathroom door after leaving. It is hard enough for me to knock on a door. It is way too much to expect my deaf ears to hear a response. With just a handful of visitors, I can keep track of people and know when the bathroom is free by keeping an eye on everyone.

I suppose we could rig up something like plane restrooms have that would say "Occupied" in red above the door. But again if someone just left the door closed, I would see the "Occupied" sign for hours and finally rush outdoors to solve my issues.

But the medicine would be in the unoccupied "Occupied" bathroom.

Maybe sensors in the floor would work. Or we could hire a bathroom attendant for when we have parties. And the attendant could also help me put on the medicine. I am unsure whether we need to hire a supermodel for this task.