Recovering Drama Queen Relapses


I was born a drama queen. I blame genetics. Since exiting my royal kingdom (aka high school) six years ago I have tried very hard to tone down the crazy. I try not to stick my nose in other people’s business or gossip a lot. I try to take a deep breath before speaking and to not cry anytime someone slightly offends me. I have been working very hard on not taking people’s bad moods personally and on not overreacting to comments that really aren’t that bad and on not taking myself or life too seriously. In short, I feel that as I grow up I am learning to control my drama queen tendencies. Yesterday, however, the crazy came rushing back.

I’m sitting at my computer at work (I work as a personal assistant, social media manager and nanny so most of the time I work at my bosses house) when all of the sudden the dog starts bugging me. I was totally in the zone, writing three different articles and didn’t want to pay attention to him. But he insisted so I took got up to let him go outside. Instead of following me he heads towards the living room and comes back with… OMYGOSH, OMYGOSH, O-MY-GOOOOOOSH. There is a rat in his mouth. EWWWWW! I literally had a complete nervous breakdown. I ran into the bathroom, realized that that won’t do me any good, ran and get my phone to call for help then ran into the bathroom again. The entire time I am screaming at the top of my lungs. With shaking hands I called my boss and in the highest voice ever said “thereisadeadratinthehousei’minthebathroom.” She had no idea what I said. I try again. “Dead rat in the house.” “There is a dead rat in the house?” she asks. “Yes.” “Where?”  “In the living room. I’m locked in the bathroom.” “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hung up and tried to calm myself down. I needed to take my inhaler but my purse was in a 2ft radius of the rat and there was no way I was going to go get it. I’d rather suffocate than risk getting attacked by a dead rat. I looked in the mirror and told myself I am a professional woman. I’m married. I’m almost 24. I cannot stay locked in a bathroom forever. Then it hits me. She’ll be here in ten minutes? No no no that is not supposed to happen. She is supposed to do what everyone else in my life does- recognize that I am over reacting, calm me down over the phone, make sure there is no real problem and then tell me to suck it up and deal. Now I’m mortified and embarrassed and still panicking about the dead rat that is 7ft away from me. Fanfreakingtastic

Luckily my boss is pretty cool and didn’t give me too much of a hard time about my phobia episode. She scooped up the rat and searched the house and backyard for anymore “presents” the dog had captured. Turns out the neighbors had stirred up a rats nest last week and Vector control had set traps in the backyard. The rat had died from eating the poison and the dog had brought it inside because, honestly, I think he secretly knows that I am not a dog person and therefore he hates me. My boss did request that  the next time I freak out about something I need to tell her right away if it is Sydney related or not. Sydney is her daughter and only child so I understand her motherly need to know right away if her child is in danger. Sydney was safe in school…I was the only person in immediate danger of being brutally attacked, robbed, and eaten by a dead rat.


About britheblogger

I am an Orange County native who is closer to 30 than 20, prefers comedies to dramas, loves healthy food and crap food equally and believes bad days can be cured with a walk on the beach. Mother to a very smart, funny, energetic and opinionated blue eyed toddler. Nanny to a teen who is athletic, sarcastic, intelligent and always looking out for the underdog. Wife to a man who serves his family selflessly, is incredibly handy and an amazing cook. We have four rules in our home: love God, love each other, eat In N Out and always cheer for the Angels.

4 responses »

  1. You and my mom would get along just fine. You my my mom and sister’s dog, on the other hand (who managed to catch 3 possums in as many days), would not.

    • 3 possums? Grooossss!!! Possums are just as bad as rats and mice…its those creepy tails! Seriously I shudder just thinking about it

    • ya I can’t handle them. There was also a bee investation in the house a few days before that and I was more comfortable hanging out with hundreds of live bees that could sting me than I was hanging out with a dead rat. ridiculous

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