Early o'clock in the morning. Me in the shower, covered with soap suds. Earthquake, shaking bathtub vigorously.
My hardwood floors, damp and soapy, as I make undignified, unclothed rush around the house to secure the cages. Sleepy venomous creatures, sticking their tongues out at weird sudsy apparition that is hurriedly decorating the tops of their homes with Styrofoam and mattress pads. Early morning imagination working overtime. I think they are looking at me funny. Snakes are not supposed to laugh at you when you are naked and wielding foam rubber.
Earthquakes no fun if you are coal miner, bridge builder or venomous snake keeper. Anybody's bet who is inconvenienced most. I think the snake keepers. Coal miner no doubt would disagree. Not fun to be smushed in a cave-in, but also not fun to be trapped in house rubble with couple-three agkistrodon, some hyperactive juvenile horridus. Or think of neighbor's children encountering same. Poor snakes. Must explain kids in neighborhood would steal snakes' rattles and tie them to trees before toilet-papering rest of yard, disappointed because snakes have no hubcaps.
Bad fantasies going through my head here. Hope there are no aftershocks. Swearing to quake-proof the snake room. Swearing to replace all glass with armored plastic. Just swearing. Listening to news reports. Waiting to see if earthquake is really over.
One hour later. No aftershocks. News reports, geologists on Internet say unlikely to resume. Good. Relief. Taking inventory again. All reptiles okay. Hardwood floors not okay. Hardwood floors still soapy. I am still soapy. Also cold. Naked. Did I mention soapy?
Back into shower. Catch sight of self in bathroom mirror. Knew snakes looked like they were laughing for a reason. Swear some more. Repeat to self, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job...."