It must have been a slow news day yesterday (doctors performed a colonoscopy on our president, in an attempt to find his head), so the small earthquake that struck in the Bay Area in the early morning made the national news.
Although it was probably the strongest quake we've yet experienced, it was really not a big deal. As with most night time earthquakes, we woke with a sense of confusion. In the ten seconds that the earthquake lasted, our groggy brains manged to puzzle out the fact that the rumbling and swaying in the bedroom was not, in fact, the effect of three purring pussycats.
Of course, every small earthquake is a reminder of the fact that there will be larger earthquakes. Robb and I have earthquake kits in the garage, and my studio. I should look at those again, to check that everything is in place.
When we were more nimble, I was less worried about how we might adapt to the aftermath of a big quake. The cats would not be allowed into emergency shelters, so they would stay at home and resort to cannibalism. Robb and I figured that we could walk to wherever we needed to go, if the roads were impassable. Now, I'm not so sure. Will Robb end up feasting on cat flesh, when the Big One comes? I can't remember if we replaced the camp stove that was stolen out of our garage. Will Robb be forced to eat Firdusi Tartar, while I hike out in search of provisions?