By the time you think of seeking refuge, the quake is over.
First, in case you’re worried about us, relax, we’re all right. The quake was 4.8 on the Richter Scale, which is pretty high, but not high enough to knock down buildings.
Even so, I was just preparing to go to the supermarket when our apartment started bouncing up and down, glassware clanking (Patty’s antique bottle collection)–and then it stopped, after five or ten seconds.
Couldn’t get through to the police. I did get to talk to the guy who pumped my gas. “Oh, yes, nice big earthquake! We felt it here, I can tell you!” And of course they were all talking about it on the radio.
Earthquakes do occur here, in this part of New Jersey: not so often that you get used to them, not so rare that you can’t figure out why your house is shaking. I think this was the third one we’ve had in forty-plus years. One of them caught me performing a private function in the lavatory. It sounded just like a subway rocketing by, a foot or two under the floor. And the pot bounced up and down with me on it.
Well, the sun’s out. I want to relax with a cigar. Sheesh, it’s snowing, where my editor lives. Grab some sunshine while you can.
Update, 6:15 or so: We’ve just had an aftershock–not as hard or as long as the main even this morning, but still a bit unsettling. We don’t want the ceiling coming down around us.
Coupled with a very serious snowstorm in New England, this has not been a good two days for the northeastern U.S.