“What the fuck is that, Jenn? Is that an earthquake?” I woke Jenn up, looking for a truck outside and listening for a helicopter.
I’m still up since this morning’s minor (5.4) quake along the New Madrid (or Wabash?) fault.
At first, I thought the dog was wiggling the bed. Then, I realized she wasn’t on the bed–though she soon jumped up scared.
No significant damage reports, at least as yet.
I had an amazingly busy day yesterday, off to work early, then out for an appointment with my son, Graham, back downtown for another meeting, then back out to the East End for another, then back downtown to the office to handle a translation an localiz(s)ation fire drill, then off to coach soccer. I never actually ate.
It ended well, however. Jenn and I went to Eddie Izzard last night. He’s the funniest action transvestite there is. He had the crowd from the beginning, hotting and hollering for his hand movements. I choose cake.
Well, no aftershocks.
I’m glad it wasn’t a pile of weapons of mass destruction accidentally exploded down in Fort Knox, an explanation for the shakes that did cross my mind.