Earthquake!

Well, we had another one.

The dead of night, as usual. (Why is it they always seem to come at night?)

The rumble that both awakens and paralyses the body in fear.

The sharp jolt that rattles the glassware and photos on the wall.

The roller coaster heaving of the bed; the groan of the wall joists.

The silence.

"Hey that was a good one," the experienced Californian will state. "About 4.3. From the North."

And then we roll over and go back to sleep.

The next morning we pop on the TV. If Mr. and Mrs. Anchorman are smiling, as they were today, we know either it wasn't a big quake, or it didn't happen within the confines of Los Angeles County. In this case, it was both; the 4.0 shaker was in Big Bear, about 65 air miles from their studio.

The anchors go on to the really important news. Jamie-Lynn Spears' pregnancy; the quarter-inch of rain last night that might ("we have live cameras standing by") result in a mudslide.

I make a note to add rain gear to my non-existent earthquake survival kit, and move on.