Don’t Move Furniture During an Earthquake
- Jo Landolfo
- Dec 29, 2025
- 2 min read
Some days aren’t meant for fixing. They’re meant for staying upright.
Today reminded me of a lesson I’ve learned more than once on the road: you don’t move furniture during an earthquake. When systems fail, information conflicts, and fear starts running ahead of facts, the instinct is to act immediately. Fix the account. Reset the password. Make a decision. Go somewhere. Do something.
That instinct can be dangerous.
I’ve experienced these earthquakes before, and I’m certain I’ll experience them again. Life on the road — especially during the first week or month — has a way of stripping away familiar anchors. When something goes wrong, thoughts scatter quickly. Fear fills in the gaps. The terror is real, even when the threat itself isn’t fully understood yet.
Today was one of those days.
A cascade of technical issues surfaced all at once. Systems contradicted themselves. Answers were incomplete. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Shaking, adrenaline, that overwhelming sense that something irreversible might be happening.
But here’s what mattered most: nothing required immediate action.
I was grateful to have help slowing things down. Someone who could offer simple explanations for complex issues. Someone who could say, this isn’t personal, this isn’t permanent, this is a system behaving like systems do. That perspective made all the difference.
Most people don’t have that.
On the road, when you’re alone and something breaks — technology, finances, logistics — there may not be a calm voice available to translate the chaos. Panic can push people into decisions they later wish they’d waited on. Files get overwritten. Accounts get reset unnecessarily. Plans change prematurely. Damage happens not because of the problem, but because of the reaction to it.
The same rule applies to technology, travel, finances, and even our own bodies: when systems are unstable, you pause.
You don’t overwrite master files under stress. You don’t reset everything at once. You don’t make permanent decisions in temporary chaos.
Preparedness isn’t panic. Preparedness is timing.
Today, I stopped for the evening. The laptop stayed closed. A simple note on top read one word: Pause. Outside the window, the world kept moving — trucks, lights, noise — but inside, nothing needed fixing yet. That choice mattered.
Waiting isn’t weakness. Waiting is an action.
When the shaking stops, then you move the furniture. Until then, you protect what matters. You sit still. You breathe. You let the dust settle.
Awareness isn’t about fear. It’s about knowing when not to act.
Author’s Note
This reflection draws from lessons explored more deeply in my upcoming book, Solo Woman Traveler’s Survival Guide, where preparedness is framed not as fear-based vigilance, but as calm awareness, restraint, and trust in timing. Whether navigating technology, travel, or personal safety, the goal is the same: remain steady when the ground moves.
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