Stillness. If I could describe life in this middle west of America, that would be the first word that came to mind. Folks I’ve known from the south had the idea that all the weirdos lived up here. Shocking to me, as I’d always thought we were viewed as stereotypically boring ‘normal’ people.

Sure, we have natural disasters like anywhere else… but they usually come from the heavens, not from below.

My chair was shaking. My shelves were shaking. Everything around me was shaking. I immediately imagined someone on the west coast would just call this Tuesday, but for me the earth was trembling, and I was a little tiny little speck of salt in this terrestrial shaker.

I never saw my boss as God, but clearly I had done something wrong calling in sick today when I wasn’t. I’d caused a Milwaukee earthquake.

I would take the blame for something that far out of my control. Typical of any Packers fan. Why? I suppose it grants you some tiny illusion of control in your life as the world quite literally throws you around like a ball with no particular goal in mind.

The floor is moving.

And all I can do is try to take the blame? That’s either some deep self loathing or vanity in its purest form.

Legions of tiny plasticine people standing atop my shelves teetered on the brink of the abyss. Many fell to their not dooms below. They weren’t burdened with having to live. I might not be so lucky if this shaking floor just happened to suddenly fissure open beneath my feet and swallow me whole.

Stillness returns.

And I am shook.