30 years ago, when it became inevitable that we would move west, I begged my mom, “Please, not on the San Andreas Fault.” So of course, she found a place to live where the San Andreas and the Banning and the San Jacinto fault all converge, ticking away, deep underground. Brilliant.
I’ve been in Los Angeles for 16 years, now. At the moment I live near a major terrorist target, above the only tsunami zone in the city, on a few small earthquake faults, and still way too close to the San Andreas Fault. I’ve tried to pay attention to the geologists. And to the first responders, who tell us, “We’ll be way too busy. Plan to take care of yourself.”
Oh, did I mention the fires? There are lots of wildfires. Even when there’s no major drought, there are wildfires. So there is always a good chance of a huge earthquake coinciding with fires and no water to fight them with. So, even as goofy and fake as the disaster prepping show on TV was, the truth is that disaster prepping isn’t a waste of time here. I just have to figure out how to make all the 5-gallon containers fit in with the furniture.
