I have a confession: I caused the earthquake. Actually, I think my unborn child did.
In case the earthquake has rattled your brains to the point of memory loss, there is a hurricane heading toward the East Coast. As a Southern Californian, I haven’t gotten all caught up in all the hurricane hoopla. I mean, it’s just rain, right? Apparently not. Damon came home in the middle of the day and moved all our important stuff off the first floor of our condo, so I guess it’s kind of a big deal. Irene is not even supposed to hit till the weekend, and we’re already relocating our furniture and buying non-perishables?
So at about 1:50 today I left my condo to walk to my 2:00 pilates session. As I stepped outside, I started thinking how East Coasters totally take their natural disasters for granted. They have days to plan and prepare; yet they act as if the sky is falling. What’s a little house flooding and electricity loss when you know it’s coming? In California, we have earthquakes. No warning for those babies, thankyouverymuch.
I was berating East Coasters in my head for their inferior natural disasters when I walked into my pilates studio. “DID YOU FEEL THAT?” my instructor shrieked. “WE JUST HAD AN EARTHQUAKE”. While reflecting on hypothetical earthquakes, I completely missed a real one.
“I was literally just thinking about how we have to deal with earthquakes here!” I shrieked back. Now that timing is just weird. My instructor, Mary, glanced down at my stomach. “What are you growing in there?”
Suddenly it dawned on me: I am breeding a demon child with supernatural powers strong enough to cause earthquakes and national panic! There is no other explanation for the freak timing. I’ll make sure to have a discussion with her about this when she’s born.
In the meantime, I apologize on her behalf. It won’t happen again.
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