It’s very hard to predict earthquakes. So far, nobody has found a reliable method. There was just recently a major quake in Napa, the winemaking capital of California.
It didn’t reach us down here in southern California, but I ended up stuck in a laundry basket anyway. It turns out that there was a microquake literally right under our neighborhood at about the same time that the Napa quake hit.
I was just getting out of the shower, and suddenly I found myself sitting in the laundry. The way I had fallen, my feet weren’t touching the floor. The result was that I couldn’t get out. So I did the only thing I could do, which was to call Whitley.
But he didn’t hear me for about fifteen minutes. I was contemplating having to spend a couple of hours in there, until he noticed that I was missing. He became concerned about me not returning from the bathroom, and found me.
I was yelling ‘help,’ but I didn’t want to shout too loudly, for fear the neighbors would hear me and call the police. They might rescue cats from trees, but a nude woman stuck in a laundry basket didn’t strike me as a police matter.
Fortunately, I have a husband. He can’t hear worth a damn, but he does notice when I am not close by his side.