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But we had an earthquake last night. I’m not sure I even would have known–despite the vibrating bed–except that we both woke up to our bedroom door rattling up and down for a full minute. And had no stinking idea what was going on. That was at 4:30 a.m., and apparently around 5:30 Mr. V got curious and went downstairs to see what happened and found out about the earthquake. And then woke me up to tell me about it. And I bashed him over the head with a rock. OK, not really, but I might have had I had quick access to a rock.
The only other time I’ve ever experienced an earthquake was my senior year of college. I was in the library on campus and felt a rumble underfoot. Everyone started murmuring about what had happened, was it an earthquake? And one girl loudly pronounced she was from CALIFORNIA and it was NOT an earthquake, dummies.
But it was. So there. That made me happy because I hate self-righteous people, unless it is me. 😉