Sexism and The Search For Solutions

I am a man. Men are logical. They are rational, problem solvers. Unlike women, they cannot "multi-task". No, men are lumbered with the enormous social handicap of having to think things through before coming up with the most workable solution to any obstacle they may face, thus ensuring that the one job they are able to do at any one time is done well.
Girlies are, of course, far superior. When faced with the same obstacle they decide to do the first half-assed thing that comes into their head (thus saving time) and to keep half an eye on doing it (thus ensuring that, even though it was a useless idea in the first place, it is botched as much as is humanly possible). They are, at the same time, able to phone their best friend (to keep up to date on matters of import, such as who has had their hair done recently), make a cup of coffee (by putting gravy granules in the percolator), put the oven on (and then walk away and forget about it), run a bath (and then walk away and forget about it) and open and read red letters from public utilities (before putting them in the bin and saying later "I didn't think they were important").
In the specific instance of the very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither, these amazing talents are, obviously, immeasurably improved by two bottles of Pinot Grigiot and hormone levels which are up and down like a whore's drawers.
These charming differences between the sexes have been brought to the fore since Pither was discharged from hospital, his left leg in a plaster cast stretching from the top of his thigh right down to his ankle. You see, I was faced with numerous problems to solve on arriving home. For instance:

1. How do you sit (and a word which sounds very much like sit) on the loo, with your bomb doors over the drop zone, when one of your legs is rigid from pelvis to tibia tip?
2. How do you have either a bath or a shower without dissolving the cast?
3. How do you heave your leg onto the bed or a stool when, because of the nature of your injury, you are unable to lift it by yourself?
4. How do you have a pee when the "woman friendly" loo seat has to be held up manually (in pre-injury days by my right knee) or else it will slam down and move you four rows forward in the choir?
5. How do you put on or take off your pants or sequinned action thong when you can't reach lower than just below your knee?
6. How do you explain to four dogs that the crutches which support you are not to be attacked and gnawed at every time you swing forward?


My initial solution to all of these obstacles was turned down flat by VSTB EW. It would, admittedly, have involved some cost in wages but it would have worked and, I thought, proved good value.
The rejection of the above led to the formulation of plans A-Z, all of which were arrived at following full and frank exchanges of views between myself and Mrs P. Her solutions almost always entailed her being on hand and assisting. I gave them the thumbs down as they would not only have been far too humiliating to bare they would have meant me waiting for her return from work each day before either I or my bowels could move.
Anyway, the upshot of my "man thinking" has led to the following solutions to the above problems. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Pither's Guide To Enforced Unipedalism, numbers 1-6:
1.


2.


3.


4.


5.


6.


Yes, I am man, in manner of problem solving, logic machine. I'd always been fond of my crutch but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine having two more would prove so invaluable.
Crutches shall not go to Grantham - but multi-tasking and the results it produces shall.