Sitting at my desk, dutifully reviewing critiques of the website I run, when suddenly the concrete floor starts to shimmy and the earth lets out a growing grumble. I don't know what to do, so I get up from my rolly chair, scuffle to a doorway (right next to a glass wall because I am a genius when panicked) shouting, "What do we do?! What do we do?!" and watch as my fellow employees, all men, run past me into the parking lot.
Apparently more important than getting to a doorway is getting to an open space. Thanks, Guys.
My heart thundered twice as long as the ground did, and since no major damage happened (except Mack's car almost flipping because HE WAS DRIVING ON THE INTERSTATE when the earthquake hit), everyone's attention turned to the enormous flat screen TVs we all have at home that aren't attached to the wall. Shame on us.
For not attaching those shrines of HD to the wall sooner. Lesson learned. (Mack, get on that.)
I guess I deserved a planet sized freak out since I gave all my Kentuckians an earful when it happened there. For the record, I'm not a fan of 5.8 or higher and I'll be putting together my earthquake box tonight, under advisement from my style consultant and former Cali Queen, Leigh.
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5 comments:
Man... God must have been mad that you left Louisiana. Seriously, I hope you aren't too shaken.
I'm glad you're safe and sound! That sounds scary!
God is mad that I went to mass! Thanks a lot Liz!
scary! did your tv break?
TV is fine, I'm relieved to report. Whew.
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