Write about: the shake-up.
With all that went on yesterday, I entirely forgot to mention the earthquake.
It hit while Max and I were at the breakfast table and Kat was in the bathroom. Miles was on the floor in the living room. It lasted about 20 seconds, with some pretty good shaking at its peak.
Sum total of damage done in our house: a bottle of shampoo fell off a shelf in the bathroom and landed in the tub.
That's the second earthquake I've felt since moving here (and second total in my entire life) and this was definitely bigger than last time. Miles didn't seem to notice or care. Max thought it was pretty interesting.
It certainly had the whole town talking, at any rate.
"Brother, you don't know what a shake-up is, do you?"
"Judging by your tone, brother, I would say that you believe that I do not."
"Quite right, brother."
"Well then, what am I doing wrong?"
"I think that it would be helpful if you were to tell me what it is that you think you are doing."
"Well, brother, I think you just want me to do that so that you can make fun of me. Again."
"I promise to do no such thing."
"You swear it?"
"I do, brother. So, if you would be so kind?"
"All right. If a shakedown is, at its most basic level, the use of force or threats or intimidation or what have you in order to get someone to do as you wish..."
"Ah, yes, I can see where you are headed with this brother."
"... then a shake-up must be the same thing, only done on a rooftop or other such elevated locations."
"Yes, that would explain what we're doing up here."
"So what's the problem then?"
"I think I'll explain it all after you're done here. So just go ahead and finish with this rather terrified looking fellow and then we'll go grab a beer and chat it out, all right brother?"
"Fine by me, brother."