Brian's solution worked.
Thanks to all of you who offered advice and/or confirmation of the best way to get into my bathroom. Turns out it is indeed a push-button lock which easily popped when I used the inside of a ballpoint pen (the ink thingy) to poke in the itty-bitty hole. Now you should all be a lot less worried about my kitchen sink (which, I assure you, was scrubbed and sanitized immediately after doing yeoman's pee duty) and, instead, concern yourselves with the fact that I could walk in on you in the bathroom the next time you come over to visit.
Dinner on Saturday night at my place, then?
In case anyone actually reads this any more, I'm here with a plea for advice:
Last night I made a stupid mistake. No, I didn't have unprotected sex or leave the scene of an accident ... so maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't be as mortified as I am. Wait, OK, here's the thing: (how many colons are too many in a blog post? A question for discussion some other time, but still:) As I was getting ready for bed last night, I ... locked myself out of my own bathroom. Accidentally. I mean, who would be so foolish as to do something that ... foolish ... on purpose, right?
So now that I've put it right out there, here's the little bit of back story (and again with the colons): I've been having drain issues. Well, I mean, not me personally, see (and I wasn't even thinking of that kind of colon, so thanks for taking me there, freaks), but there have been some, uh, toilet issues around these here parts for several months. So after a plumber blew me off several times (not actually as enjoyable as you might think) (ba dum bum), I turned to my local hardware store and their super-duper, extra-heavy-duty-but-also-won't-destroy-your pipes liquid drain cleaners for help.
Last night was the last of a three-day treatment plan (geez, it sounds like the toilet was in rehab -- and perhaps that's not so far off) and, for good measure, I decided to also treat the tub and sink with a dose of the drain stuff -- in accordance with the instructions on the bottle, natch -- 'cause, well, I'm a shedder, if you must know, and a fair bit of my, uh, "winter coat" (and summer, and fall, etc.) ends up down those drains, slowing things down over time. So anyway, yeah, I tossed a few ounces of drain stuff into the tub and sink, followed by the recommended amount of warm water, knowing that all of these fixtures would need to sit for about 6 hours without being disturbed.
You're probably thinking that I closed the bathroom door behind me when I left in order to remind myself not to flush or run water, right? Oh, you think you're so smart. And you might have been right ... except you probably don't have a furry friend who lives with you. Ahem. Those of you playing along at home who guessed that I closed the door when leaving the bathroom in order to keep Olivia, Queen of All She Surveys, from venturing in there are absolutely correct. Give yourself a big slurp of your morning coffee and get your gloating over with so that you can get back to the story, 'cause as I mentioned (way back up at the top), I need your help.
Okay, here we go again: The drain cleaner instructions were to pour a certain number of ounces of the stuff into the drain, to be followed by a certain number of ounces of warm water. The instructions did not recommend then scrubbing out the tub so that any trace of the presumably-not-safe-or-tasty-for-felines drain opener could be eliminated. That would have to wait for the morning.
Once again, those of you without 4-legged creatures at home (past or present) may not understand that my concern for Queen O was neither idle nor misguided. She routinely puts her little snout in the air at any offer of a water bowl. I've tried plastic, I've tried ceramic -- hand painted by moi, I might mention, and I've tried the fountain kind of water bowl that simulates a waterfall ... or, better, a faucet -- all to no avail. Olivia prefers to drink from the faucets in either the tub or the bathroom sink, and she will head-butt me relentlessly until I turn one of them on for her. She also prefers that I stay and watch and/or scratch her while she drinks, but she will forgo those simple pleasures if sufficiently parched.
Have I set the scene clearly enough now? I closed the bathroom door behind me as I headed to bed last night to keep Livvy from getting into the sink and tub because, had she done so, she might have gotten poisonous drain cleaner on her little paws, and even you folks without pets know that cats spend 9/10ths of their waking minutes licking their paws (not to mention the rest of themselves). I made sure the door clicked shut because I know how resourceful Miss O can be. In fact, I turned the knob as I closed that door -- the door with no keyhole and a "lock" consisting of a push-in button on the inside -- which made what came next even more confounding.
Well, the first thing wasn't so confounding: I got into bed. But a few minutes into "The Colbert Report" (a.k.a. "The T's are Silent"), I realized I'd forgotten my night guard. Yes, as if this whole story weren't embarrassing enough, I'm now confessing that I clench my teeth at night so badly that my dentist made me a night guard. Now, instead of clenching my teeth again each other, I clench them against a hunk of plastic that makes football players look like they mean business. Sexy!
And now you know: I got up to get my hot-n-sexayyy bite guard and only then discovered that the bathroom door had somehow locked itself from the inside. Or maybe I discovered that the door automatically locks from the inside when the door is closed. I'm not entirely sure of what I discovered except that I CAN'T GET INTO MY FREAKING BATHROOM AND NOW IT'S 6:30 A.M. AND I JUST PEED IN THE KITCHEN SINK.
So who do I call? A locksmith, despite the lack of a real lock? A handyman-type who will do what -- knock the door down? (For the record, the hinges are on the inside.) My landlords, to tell them about the broken door?
I know you're concerned about something else, and I really do appreciate it (and here's the last colon of this post): How is your fearless Cynical going to destinkify herself now that the stress has caused her pores to ooze smelliness? Never fear, remaining reader. I am fortunate enough that my apartment building has a locker room (to go with the pool and fitness room, neener) and it comes fully equipped with showers -- and toilets, too. So I've packed up my toiletries and a towel and I'm heading down there now. My biggest concern is that, while I have plenty of shampoo, conditioner, and soap on hand -- and even some that's not under the bathroom sink which, need I remind you, is inaccessible to me --, I do not have an extra comb or hairbrush, or horror of horrors, hair styling gel. Oh, and I have several spare toothbrushes and a travel tube of toothpaste, so my stressed-out choppers will be shiny clean, but my hair is gonna be a disaster today.
The worst thing? My bathroom is a mess and I can't tidy it up before I have someone break into it.
So what do you recommend?