If It Really Is My Fault, How Do We Choose Where To Move When My Husband Retires?

I have endured a good deal of teasing by my new Tulsa friends about the surprising things that have happened in my short tenure.  I have honestly believed that it isn't my fault, but my first month in Tulsa had the worst snow storm in anyone's memory.  My first Summer in Tulsa was the hottest in history - with something like 10 days in a row of 116+ degree temperatures.  The worst earthquake in Oklahoma history followed.  And the only thing that has kept this Summer from being a record is how bad last Summer was.  Anyone who know me knows that I have never complained about the heat.  (Except for the Summer I was pregnant with Amanda.)  But I gave up on ever getting enough sleep to function in Tulsa, and with John about to spend two weeks on the road, it could only get more difficult.  (Anyone who regularly sleeps with someone knows how difficult it is to sleep when that someone is gone - in fact, the only time it is harder to get to sleep is when they return after you have rediscovered the delight of having an entire bed all to yourself.)  So I booked a flight and arrived in Southern California on Tuesday.  Just in time for an Earthquake - and the best night's sleep I have had all Summer.  (I have been in plenty of earthquakes - it was more common to have a month with an earthquake in than not when I was growing up - but these quakes had the sharpness that only a really close earthquake has.  Very short and very sharp.)  There were eight aftershocks during the night and I didn't feel a one.  Slept like a baby.
But my point, and I do have one is that when John called me on Wednesday the first thing he said was, "It's you!"  They almost had him convinced at work that he had caused all these bad things when he moved there.    But he was nowhere near California, so he knew that I must be the cause.  Made him feel a lot better.  No totally sure how I feel about it.