I sense a conflict in our marriage at some point in the future because Chris likes to live near the ocean and I now want to move as far inland as humanly possible.
(I'm reading a book about an asteroid hitting the moon and knocking it really close to Earth which throws all the tides out of whack and within the first day tsunamis swallow Alaska, Hawaii, San Francisco, Boston, Miami, and yes, New York. The rest of the world is affected, too, of course, but all communications are down so they don't really know yet. I started feeling queasy around about the part where the narrator's mom looks up her editors on the list of dead and yep, they're all on it.)
My problem is that I find all these disaster books and movies entirely too believable for my own good. I read more of the book on the subway this morning and walking through the Manhattan streets afterwards I spookily felt like the world was indeed ending...because I had to pick my way through piles of slush. I'm stopping on the way home to get canned foods and bottled water!
Although if a tsunami gets me right away I guess I won't need to worry about that.
Don't worry: I'll never, ever watch 2012.