>> Friday, January 17, 2014
I have lived in California all my life.
Here is Southern California, we don't have much in way of climate changes.
And when there is a deviation to the normal sunny and 75 F weather, the local newscasters get a little too excited.
Now, California is known as earthquake country.
However, like mentioned, I have lived here all my life and never been a BIG earthquake.
knocking on wood repeatedly.
I have, however, experienced little earthquakes 4.5, 4.7, 5.0.... not big enough to cause any damage, just big enough to make you crap your pants, figuratively speaking.
One day, I was standing in my kitchen, holding my baby in my arms, when the earth started to shake.
It took me entirely too long to realize that this was an earthquake, and not my upstairs neighbors doing their morning Zumba routine.
I grabbed my daughter and we ran to the doorway, but I quickly realized we couldn't all fit, as I had my babysitter there as well.
So, we ran over to the kitchen table and crawled under.
Then I realized that this kitchen table is from Ikea, crap!
So, I decided to run outside and sit in the middle of the courtyard.
Obviously, I am a genius.
By this time the earth had stopped moving.
This happened in the middle of the day, so not many tenants were home, except the French dude(as mentioned in post below). He came running out of his apartment, looking as if he had just seen a ghost.
He came up to me and said, "what was that?"
I explained it was an earthquake.
Do they not have earthquakes in France?
Anyways, he was shaken up, and so upset that I was not going door to door, in a large complex, to see if everyone was okay.
So, he took it upon himself to do so.
Went door to door.
Almost no one was home.
And those that were, looked at him like he was crazy.
Then, he sat on a lounge chair by the pool for the rest of the day, with his head in his hands.
Did I mention he was only wearing boxers?
No, well, yeah, so he was in his undies running from door to door.
He handed in his notice to vacate three days later.
About an hour after the 4.5 earthquake, a team of firemen came barging through the front office door.
One of my tenants had called 9-1-1, because she dropped a knife on her foot during the earthquake.
And not just any knife, but a butter-knife.
insert eye roll
The paramedics administered a band-aid.
She too handed in her notice vacate shortly after.
Another earthquake happened on Easter.
We were all sitting outside eating dinner when a sudden wave of nausea abruptly killed my appetite.
I looked up at my husband, and he too looked sick.
"Look at the blinds," he then said.
I looked over at the apartment across from us, the blinds were swinging from side to side.
Everyone came barging out of their apartments.
"Earthquake!" yelled several tenants, as they ran down the stairs.
They all congregated around me and my family as we ate our Easter hamburgers.
"What should we do?" one asked.
I shrugged, "go back to your apartment? Make sure there isn't any damage I suppose."
Everyone was upset, crying, holding each other, and wondering what the right course of action should be.
I mean, honestly people, this is the video that kept playing over and over and over again on the news.
It wasn't Armageddon.
The following day I received two 30-Day notice to vacate.
As if earthquakes only happen at this complex, not the one next door.
Sometimes I think tenants believe apartment managers hold entirely too much power.