Well, its been one of those weeks that have the more apocalyptical thinking conspiracy. And I mean, who wouldn’t? We had a 5.8 earthquake this week. I know, I know, west coasters are laughing at us, but its rare enough and unusual enough (never mind the geology of rocky terrain moving like that) that it is noteworthy. The eleven aftershocks (so far, according to the USGS) that we’ve had since then, ranging from 2.1 to 4.5, is just mind boggling.
Shaken from below, and now from above we have Hurricane Irene looming towards us as I type this. I admit it, I’d rather have the earthquakes than a hurricane. I’m a wuss. I hate the sound of the storm pounding against the house (that I still owe so much money on), the paranoid delusion (despite having escaped Isabel without too much trouble) of massive property damage. The rational part of me realizes that the bunker down craze in our area is a little over the top – projections have us getting some tropical storm rain and wind, but nothing to merit extreme panic this far inland.
It doesn’t change the fact that I hate storms.
There’s also the knowledge that we have had a week of everything being shook up repeatedly by the earthquakes, only to be pounded by wind and rain now. We had a brief (but harsh) storm on Thursday that did some decent damage because of this sucker punch.
So, Kim and I are hunkering down in our bunker with the girls. We have flashlights, charged paraphernalia like phones, e-readers, and handheld game systems. And we wait. Personally, I plan on distracting myself with some quality time in scrivener. Wonder what I’ll write about? Oh, and eating cake tomorrow for the pumpkin that turns five. Fun times!
