The public restroom

I love public restrooms, especially the smelly ones where I can take a deep breath and rest assured that I'm still alive.  I don't mind the lack of a toilet seat and a moist ceramic rim either.  I don't even mind when there is no more toilet paper, or the commode has seemingly refused to flush for days on end, or when the flies and mosquitoes are thick as rain.  I can sit and just meditate and think about Brenda having to wait to use the loo -- when I don't even need to right now!  My loo, with my imaginary gone fishin' sign dangling on the doorknob warning the world to "do not disturb."  Brenda knows better than to knock.  Every knock will cost her another ten minutes.  This is my me time.  Now, you might think that my power play is less effective if there are multiple loos.  Not so.  Brenda knows better than to not wait her turn to use my station.  But I am not evil.  On my way out, I drench the loo with Lysol all the better to let Brenda enjoy the surprise as the deodorant dissipates over the next hour or two.  Meanwhile, I enjoy a pineapple wine-cooler, a full Xanax, a thick doobie, and a Suboxone.