Sitting in the nursery/office this morning with the wife and kid, the house suddenly violently jolted. Twice.
It felt like a big truck or something driving past the house.
“What the fuck?” The wife asked. “Was that an earthquake?”
Ever the optimist, I assured her it wasn’t. Probably a big truck or something driving past the house. I didn’t want to further fuel her paranoia of SoCal dropping off into the ocean.
Though possibly having beachfront property after the cataclysm does sound strangely appealing.
Jumping to the Google machine, I quickly queried “was that a fucking earthquake?”
The results came back quite mixed. Note: unless specifically looking for porn, don’t use the word “fucking” in a google search query.
A couple of pages of search results in, I found the news. It was a fucking earthquake. 3.0 around the Silverlake area. That’s like 3 miles from our house….
Sooooo…. Now we get to buy the earthquake kit we’ve been talking about for years. Honestly, I know we probably need one, but is HAVE NO IDEA what goes into an earthquake kit. Bottled water? Medicines? Blankets? Is there room for my comic books? I’ll probably need those in the apocalypse right? Music?
I’m pretty sure the baby needs stuff in there too. Like diapers and cans of spaghetti-o’s and such….
Luckily, my wife is way more prepared and knowledgable about such things. She said we could just order one online. Premade and everything. So there you go.
I’m so glad she’ll be there with me to enjoy our new beachfront property.