We just had an earthquake hit us on the East Coast. It was a 5.9 magnitude quake centered 9 miles south of Mineral, VA, about halfway between Richmond and Charlottesville.

I was at my desk in the upstairs office when I realized my desk was shaking back and forth. In a mild panic the dog came racing up the stairs.

Thinking the kids were playing with dynamite again, I yelled down stairs. “Why is the house shaking?” I yelled, getting angry.

“I don’t know!” came the reply from my daughter, Hallie.

Then I remembered that a builder had moved a house onto the lot at the end of the street. I had been talking to him this morning when he reassured me the home was in no danger of toppling over from the approaching Hurricane Irene. It weighs 100,000 pounds, he said. So if it wasn’t the kids tearing our house apart, my next thought was that the 100,000 pound house had just come toppling down.

It was when I watched the trees outside swaying rhythmically that I decided what I was feeling must be a mild earthquake. A trip to Twitter confirmed it for me (social media wins again).

It was the first earthquake I’ve ever felt, in spite of the three years I was stationed in San Diego. It was quite unsettling, to say the least. These things just don’t happen on the East Coast. What’s next? A plague? Will we see Godzilla next?

Anyone have video? Send it in and I’ll post it!