26 minutes ago, there was an earthquake. They're not common in New England, but they happen; there is a fault line in Quebec somewhere, so sometimes, the earth shakes.
I distinctly remember my first earthquake as a kid. It was probably some holiday, because all of my cousins were there and we were at my Grammie's house. Now, her house would occasionally shake anyway, being not far off from a major route that big trucks would speed down. It's a fact of life up here. Big truck speeds by, house shakes. It just so happened that my cousins and I were in the living room playing bullshit (it's a card game) behind the couch when my mother yelled at us to stop running and jumping.
That's right. I got blamed for an earthquake.
Naturally, my first instinct was to blame my cats tonight to "knock it off" and "you better not be in that pan of shells" but I couldn't even get it out because Calypso was napping in the warm exhaust from my laptop and Eden was begging for my dinner right in front of me. I couldn't even blame big trucks because they have no reason to pass through my neighborhood. So. Earthquake.
It's now been 33 minutes and my phone has finally quieted down from all the Facebook alerts. It's how we do. We get excited, make sure people are okay, and go on with our lives.
Edit: Here's some info on the quake if you're interested (or concerned out-of-state family).