We had an earthquake this morning. I have experienced earthquakes before, but not any sort of significant ones. The ones I experienced in the past were like, "Hey, didn't it feel like everything sort of vibrated for a few seconds there?" This one was like "Holy crap, the building is shaking!" It happened at like, 6am and I was asleep. I woke up to the house shaking, which is not such a pleasant way to wake up. The thing is, during an earthquake, they tell you to go hide under an interior doorjamb or something. Well, I laid in bed. I was like, "Wow! So THIS is what a real earthquake feels like!" I was completely enthralled with it. When the shaking stopped is when I got scared. I freaked out. I was like, "OH MY GOD, the WHOLE BUILDING just SHOOK!" I got scared it would happen again, only more violently. I was even more frightened by the fact that I had just laid in bed instead of finding some sort of cover. I mean, I sleep directly underneath a ceiling fan with glass lightshades, a heavy shelf with big glass candle holders and picture frames on it, and a grim reaper frieze from the Toscano catalog. I COULD HAVE DIED.
After horrible visions of having my skull shattered by a wall shelf or being poked in the eye by the aforementioned demonic sculpture, I made my way to John's room and crawled into bed with him. I curled up in a ball and wanted nothing but quiet comfort.

And tonight, I'm sitting here thinking, "Wouldn't it be cool if that happened again?"

Okay, it probably wouldn't be that cool.

Nevermind.

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