After The Quake

Who would've thought Maine would be a hotbed of seismic activity? Certainly not me. You expect that sort of thing living in California, of course (as I'd experienced in my 5-year stay there), but not up here in Maine. Well, last night we got our butts kicked big time, and I'm not even kidding here.

[Flashback] Last week, we'd received a couple of good bumps about 10 minutes apart, then about a half-hour or so later, received what felt like someone ramming into the apartment building with their car -- unlike the back-and-forth motion of California's quakes -- followed by another "ramming" about 10 minutes later, too. They seem to travel in pairs, from what I gather. (One small one = one big one; two small ones = two big ones; etc.)

[Return to present time] So, last night, around 7:15, I heard and felt something like the furnace next door kick in with great gusto. (This should've been a sign.) Then, about 8:00, BOOM!!! The pictures on the walls rattle, the salt shaker sitting on the back of the stove fell off, and crash, my Lego representation of the Curtiss Autoplane -- see previous blog -- hit the floor. Holy crap! I stepped outside to find my neighbors laughing nervously as we all listened to the after rumble make its way across the mountains for about another 30 seconds or so, sounding for all the world like a persistent thunderstorm. I had been just about to hit the sack, but needless to say, the adrenaline rush took care of that. It would be another hour or so before I could even think about going to sleep. Whew! That one will get talked about around here for some time, believe me.