Cats and dogs living together

Living in San Francisco messes with my head because this is land that shakes. Sometimes a lot. And everyone seems to agree that some big shaking is due in relatively short order.

"There could be an earthquake right now," says a voice in my head at least 27 times a day. And it's true.

Or now.


Or now.







OR RIGHT NOW!!!!

See, that's the thing: you just don't know.

On the one hand, I love it when I can just add a fear to the list of things I can't control because that means, by definition, that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it, so there's no use worrying. Which is freeing. For example, I don't worry about being in a plane crash. I'm not saying I'd sign up for one, but other than not flying there is literally nothing I can do to really protect myself from that. Blissful irresponsibility is mine.

And yet, something about earthquakes has me hideously fascinated.

I've heard people with a fear of heights say that it isn't just a fear of falling but a fear of suddenly feeling compelled to jump. I think that's how I feel about earthquakes: I secretly want one to happen. I'm obsessed with what it would feel like to have the whole earth move beneath your feet.

Of course when I really think about it, I know that I don't really want San Francisco to crumble into the Pacific ocean. Mass hysteria is not my thing. Nonetheless, that fear/fascination suckerpunch keeps me thinking about it.

It doesn't really matter what I want or not, of course, since there absolutely nothing I can do about it.