It had to happen eventually. I had always imagined that I'd experience an earthquake in, say, California. In fact, my grandfather (who lived in Las Vegas) was said to have prayed for The Big One to arrive thus giving him Pacific-front property.So, I'm sitting at my table reading another George R.R. Martin book and having lunch when I feel a vibration on the floor. The kids were home, I figured it was them. I looked over towards the TV, where they'd take up a fixed address if they could, and noticed they weren't moving. Um, so if it's not them what's causing this? The washing machine, had to be. Except, um, I didn't run any laundry and the chances that any of the fruits of my loins would : A) voluntarily run laundry; and B) do it without my knowledge were as remote as....an earthquake in central Maryland.
After eliminating those possibilities I figured it out. The glass started tinkling and the house started shaking and my daughter ran upstairs with eyes the size of dinner plates yelling "what's going on?!!"
Like a dummy, apparently, I got them out of the house. Many of my neighbors were milling around outside. My eldest daughter was busy facebooking the news almost instantaneously. Our phones went down (all of them, cell phones too). But e-mail and the wi-fi worked so I got the news fast enough. The TV news was nonexistent, they were running soaps.
A few minutes later I got an e-mail from my wife, whose experience was less.....vivid. She was apparently in a bathroom stall at the time. I suppose it was a...moving experience.
ba-dum-bump!
No comments:
Post a Comment