So there I was, last trash day, wearing my Playtex gloves and staring at the trashcans. I was unable to touch them. I knew I was in danger of becoming The Girl Who Can't Take Out The Trash, and there was only one thing to do. I called my co-worker:
Me: I need you to tell me I'm stupid.
Peter: You're stupid. What in particular are you being stupid about?
Me: I'm scared of the rats and I can't move the trash cans.
Peter: Did you bring a broom with you like I told you?
Peter: Did you bang the cans with it?
Me: Yes. Two different times.
Peter: Then they're gone. They're more afraid of you than you are of them.
Me: Um, I really don't think they are.
Peter: They are, and they're gone. Trust me, they're smart.
Me: Last week you said it was a dumb rat.
Peter: He's still smart enough to evacuate if you bang the can. It's going to be fine.
Me: Are you sure?
Peter: Yes, I'm sure! Trust me. Now man up and do it.
So I did. As it turned out, the only wildlife dramas were the ones in my head.