Large trucks frequently drive down the large street near our place like it's the Autobahn, at off-the-chart speeds and not realizing that they stir the ground and everything built on it. For the most part, I'm not too surprised or bothered-- just another shake-it-off-you-live-in-a-big-city moment.
However, yesterday, everything around me started shaking and I didn't hear the sound of a truck barreling down the street. Was this the dreaded fault line waking up from its 1985 slumber? Just last week, Nick's co-worker told him, "I don't want to scare you, but where you live had a lot of damage in the 1985 earthquake." How can you tell someone that and not scare them? 20,000 people died! Thus, this morning, I decided to come up with an evacuation plan. The usual getting under a table (which I did while experiencing the 1989 San Francisco earthquake) or standing in a door frame doesn't seem wise when living in a concrete apartment complex, sandwiched between three floors on each side.
While consulting with my jungle-experienced friend, Thuy, she advised me to create a zipline "right now!" from my balcony to the nearby tree outside my window. My dear Watson, a splendid idea! I've always envied the monkey lifestyle.