Lovely Neighbors and First NERT Class

It turns out that my neighbors weren’t even home when the ill-mannered bloke was smoking outside. They had gotten married that day and gone off to spend the night in a hotel, leaving their friends with the run of their place.

The building manager said they were horrified to find out what had happened and that they were going to speak to me about it. When I got home from work, I saw the male half of the couple outside. He said they had left something outside my door, which proved to be a bunch of flowers in a clear glass vase and a card addressed to “Sweet Linda” and signed, “Love, Pat and Jim,” or whatever their names may happen actually to be.

Evidently, getting married had put them in a very good mood indeed. I left them a note of congratulations and thanked them for their gracious response about the smoking. I said I hadn’t wanted to be in a fight with them. I’m glad I’m not. They really are lovely people.

I did a few things and went off to the first of six sessions of Neighborhood Emergency Response Training (NERT), which is provided by members of the fire department and, in this case, held at Bethel Christian Church at 24^th and Valencia. I learned a tremendous amount. When I got home, I took my food processor off the top of the refrigerator.

Among other things, they said to make sure your bed is fifteen feet from any window, but if you can’t achieve that, having the blinds closed should stop much of the flying glass. They said to put a pair of shoes under your bed in a bag, so you don’t cut your feet to smithereens walking over to the closet to get your shoes or slippers.

They noted that one handy thing you can do with a big plastic bag is line your toilet with it. Once the water comes back on, you can just lift the bag and its contents out of the toilet and dispose of it.

Turning off the gas should not be a knee-jerk reaction after a big earthquake, as you may then wait two weeks for PG&E to turn it back on. Only do it if you smell gas or if you can see that something is mangled that’s likely to let gas escape into the air.

When a big earthquake starts, don’t try to run anywhere—you can’t outrun flying glass and debris. (A tall building can fling glass and debris to a distance one and a half times the height of the building, so a 20-story building can hurl sharp objects the distance of 30 stories.) Take cover under something and hold onto whatever it is, so your cover doesn’t migrate into the next room. If it’s just a chair, stick your head underneath it.

If you’re inside and there’s nothing under which to take cover, get near the wall. Most debris will end up in the middle of the room. If you’re outside, right next to a building is a good spot to be (unless it’s unreinforced brick). Don’t look up to see what’s happening, as there may be sharp things coming down.

If people are stampeding for a single exit, stand aside and let them go. Your chances of being injured are greater as part of a frantic crowd than if you exit calmly.

Panicking greatly increases your chances of injury or death. The one person who was killed on the Bay Bridge during the Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989 had already made it past the unsafe portion of the bridge. The terrified driver then made a U-turn and drove back the way he or she had come, only to plunge through a break in the bridge.

You can do NERT training, too, if you want; see link list.

Thelonious is basically not eating once again. She looks and feels so tiny and frail, though she doesn’t seem unhappy. This morning she even played with one of her toys. I’ve called her doctor to see if we should double the Prednisone, which had been mentioned, and I’m also thinking it’s time to abandon the healthy diet completely and let her eat whatever she feels like eating, even if it’s the cat equivalent of junk food or would cause/exacerbate other conditions, were she to live much longer. My parents concur.

So does Dr. Press, who just called. He didn’t sound wholeheartedly in favor of this, but he said to go ahead and try giving her Prednisone twice a day, and certainly to give up the therapeutic diet and feed her whatever she’ll eat.

After work, I’ll stop by the pet store and get a couple of other kinds of dry food, and some wet food that looks tasty, and I’ll go get some eggs and butter. Maybe she’d like a tuna omelet. Heck, maybe I'd like a tuna omelet, if tuna, eggs and butter weren't evil.