MDR

My college roommates have a tradition that I hate. When one of us is being particularly dramatic- while telling a story, reacting to a situation, general behavior, etc.- the others might call you “MDR,” meaning “Most Dramatic Roommate.” I hate it because it has been bestowed on me many times, and to argue it only further proves their point.

I had a breakdown the other day. It started because the power was out all night. Without power, we have no air conditioning or fan. The heat made me restless and unable to sleep, so I laid in bed thinking about cool San Luis Obispo and wondering why we ever left. I got out of bed once I determined it was a reasonable hour, only to discover I had a headache. It was hot, I hadn’t slept, and I had a headache. I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and David followed me. He had opened a cupboard without me noticing, and as I was dumping the coffee grounds into the trash I stood up right into the cupboard door and bonked my head. Coffee grounds flew all over the kitchen and I burst into tears. I cried, “I’m so uncomfortable!” as I rubbed my head and wiped up coffee grounds.

Ladies, I’ll claim it. That morning I was definitely MDR.