I have a confession: I caused the earthquake.  Actually, I think my unborn child did.

In case the earthquake has rattled your brains to the point of memory loss, there is a hurricane heading toward the East Coast.  As a Southern Californian, I haven’t gotten all caught up in all the hurricane hoopla.  I mean, it’s just rain, right?  Apparently not.  Damon came home in the middle of the day and moved all our important stuff off the first floor of our condo, so I guess it’s kind of a big deal.  Irene is not even supposed to hit till the weekend, and we’re already relocating our furniture and buying non-perishables?

So at about 1:50 today I left my condo to walk to my 2:00 pilates session.  As I stepped outside, I started thinking how East Coasters totally take their natural disasters for granted.  They have days to plan and prepare; yet they act as if the sky is falling.  What’s a little house flooding and electricity loss when you know it’s coming?  In California, we have earthquakes.  No warning for those babies, thankyouverymuch.

I was berating East Coasters in my head for their inferior natural disasters when I walked into my pilates studio.  “DID YOU FEEL THAT?” my instructor shrieked.  “WE JUST HAD AN EARTHQUAKE”.  While reflecting on hypothetical earthquakes, I completely missed a real one.

“I was literally just thinking about how we have to deal with earthquakes here!” I shrieked back.  Now that timing is just weird.  My instructor, Mary, glanced down at my stomach.  “What are you growing in there?”

Suddenly it dawned on me: I am breeding a demon child with supernatural powers strong enough to cause earthquakes and national panic!  There is no other explanation for the freak timing.  I’ll make sure to have a discussion with her about this when she’s born.

In the meantime, I apologize on her behalf.  It won’t happen again.