Well, I only felt a couple of ultra small earthquakes yesterday. I didn't even bother to get off the couch and hide-er-I-mean-bravely-take-up-position under the table. Both after-shocks were over practically before I registered they had started. The tremors are ever-so tiny now.
My friend in Auckland rang me last night:
"I don't think Lloyd and I want to come and house-sit for you while you're in Las Vegas," she said.
Huh? What? At the time, I was knee deep in the middle of double, triple, quadruple cleaning duties just because of her promise to come to Wellington.. "You can't let me down," I whimpered. "I've cleaned the cutlery drawer. And the stove .... fridge ... carpets .... windows .... I've even weeded the garden for you!". My friend well-knows, 'weeding the garden' for someone is a supreme sacrifice of my time. It is not an honour I give lightly to many.
"It's just too earthquak-y down there," she said.
"Tch-tch. No, they're only itty-bitty tremors. Nothing to get excited about. By the time you get here, they'll have stopped. I promise."
Could I promise? Oops, how could I promise there wouldn't be another big quake, if even the Earthquake Commission, and geologists, and NIWA folk can't do that?
"Please...." I begged.
My friend said she'd think about it, gauge the news bulletins and earthquake reports over the next few days..
Oh dear. To heck with worry over earthquakes - I'm now worrying like mad that, maybe, I've cleaned my house for nothing!.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LITTLE PRINCE!