A Cold Glass of Irony Served Shaken, Not Stirred

There are lots of things to be apprehensive about in moving across the country and living in LA: car accidents, long-term unemployment, being away from family and friends, and Muscle Beach. However, by far, there is one thing I'm truly scared of: earthquakes. I've been through a hurricane (I played outside in it) and I've been through a tornado (I hid in the basement for that one). I've lived through both, and all things considered, neither was all that horrific. However, I cannot fathom the ground moving beneath my feet. It's the ground! How can it possibly shake so violently that it brings down bridges or buildings or opens up holes in the earth? I joke with Mike that when we get LA, the "big one" is going to hit and California will fall right off the side of North America. I truly dread my first quake in LA. I'm fully preparing for a complete mental breakdown on the day one strong enough to topple things from shelves hits.

This morning though, the mother of all ironies hit the DC area when we experienced a 3.6 magnitude earthquake. It woke Mike and me up at about 5am. It was loud, described by someone as a low-flying plane. I didn't have a clue what was going on, and in my predawn stupor, immediately decided it wasn't important and went back to sleep. It wasn't until my morning run watching the national news that I realized it was an earthquake.

And so, I somehow managed to add "experienced earthquake" to my list of things I've done in life. But isn't it ironic that it happened in DC a month before I move to Cali (which has so many earthquakes it has its own map on the US Geological Survey website!)?