We drove partway to Tennessee on Thursday and crashed in a Comfort Inn in Shelbyville, Indiana where I was awakened at 5:30 a.m. by my very first earthquake.  The bed shaking was scary, as was the millions of little rattles above my head.  It sounded like the time my friends accidentally spilled a pound bag of M&Ms onto the bare, sloping floor in an empty theatre during a dress rehearsal when they were supposed to be running lights.  Except this wasn’t funny.  It turned out to be not a big deal, no pictures fell off the walls or anything.  I don’t know how in the world one would get up and out of the house in a big dangerous earthquake – we were on the third floor and it was over before I groggily considered whether or not we were in danger.

My husband, of course, went back to sleep.