
Well, not shit myself per se. But, well…
There I was, just a little while ago, recently home from a trip to Ikea with Charlotte’s grandparents. I was on the prowl for some caffeine. Remembered the Pepsi I didn’t finish in the diaper bag. I thought I heard kids running around in the empty apartment upstairs. Then I heard the little Chinese coin windchime we have, and I didn’t remember where it was hung (two months here, and there are still boxes and unhung curtains). Then I heard windows rattle. Then the whole building shook.
In the fraction of a second wherein my brain realized that everything at The Upland was shaking in its 100-year-old bricks and that I was standing in the living room feeling very out-of-control of the situation, I screamed, “Charlotte!” and ran to Charlotte’s room. She, of course, was tuckered out from Ikea (when she got a little boy to push her around in a little baby cart — seriously) and sound asleep — with her little but in the air. There was nothing around her crib that could fall on her. And that was that.
I was left shaken up and shaking and very very glad that the massively over-loaded bookshelves were not towering over Charlotte at the time.
I looked for cracked walls and ceilings, but, well, this building has survived worse. I’m sure. Besides, not being a home owner means that cracked foundations (etc.) are not really my problem. We could just move (and we tend to do that a lot anyway).
The feeling that the earth is shaking and you can’t control which way this big old building might lurch was enough to make me shit myself, for sure. Luckly, 12 years of Catholic school (not counting two for grad school) teach you very excellent* bowel control.
*(How can something be very excellent?)








