These Tectonic Plates Mean Business

While lying in bed at 11:47 AM with my cancer ridden dog reading Joan Didion’s Slouching Toward Bethlehem, a cold eyed view of young hippies hanging around 1967 Haight-Ashbury, the house started to shake like it does when there is an earthquake.

I got out of bed, naked, and went to the door of the bedroom. I am always naked during earthquakes. During the big one of ’94, which was truly terrifying, I was standing naked in the doorway of the hall with Adam and just three thoughts went through my head:

1) How long is this going to last and is it going to get even bigger?

2) What is going to fly off the wall and chop off my mandate?

3) At what time does the U-haul place open because I am moving back to New York immediately?

Today, which experienced a much milder quake, but not just a tremor but a real earthquake, I thought:

This is not so bad but it is lasting a long time. The house seems to be taking it very well.

Louise, the pooch, didn’t even stir. No cracks in the walls. Nothing moved.

It would have been interesting to open the refrigerator to watch the olives dance in their juice.

Earthquakes can be enjoyable. They certainly get your adrenalin pumping. And who doesn’t like a little adrenalin every now and then?

After it was over, I finished the Joan Didion piece. Phone lines were busy. The weather was perfect.