The bed started shaking while I was lying leisurely in bed reading yet another book on writing. My first thought was to wonder what the hell those people downstairs were doing that could make my bed shake. Then I realized there were no people downstairs. There was no “downstairs,” I was on a first floor!

I finally looked up at the rest of room. The white slats of the blinds were trembling. There wasn’t much to the room, but all of it was shaking.

I jumped up, a little too slowly for my taste, and sat underneath the doorframe of the closet. I remembered my husband mentioning that this or a table were a good places to go to during an earthquake. The table was too far away, all the way in the dining room, so I had chosen the nearest closet.

But while sitting in the doorframe of the closet filled with mostly my husband’s clothes, I surveyed my current garb. If the ceiling fell in, I would be found barefoot and half-dressed in the most embarrassing pajamas. They would know I was Jewish from the little penguin dressed as a Hasidic Jew on my t-shirt. I considered running to the doorframe of my closet, just a few feet away. But luckily, in the time it took to mull over the move, the earthquake stopped.

The lesson? Perhaps, to wear less embarrassing pajamas? My friends think it was to come back to New York already!

From the Washington Post: Earthquake Shakes Los Angeles