When it comes to snow storm preparedness, there are three kinds of people: Survivalists, Comfort-Junkies, and the Wilfully Oblivious.
Survivalists are easy to spot because their pantries are filled with canned beans. Survivalists have a weird passion for brown beans in tomato sauce. They also stockpile granola bars and those little containers of individualized apple sauce that are a staple item in kid’s lunchboxes.
Survivalists have back-up plans for their back-up plans. There is a case of Aquafina in their hall closet and a bucket of water sitting ready in the bathtub; lighters and waterproof matches in their kitchen junk drawer; and “family packs” of batteries in a plastic container that sits underneath another plastic container filled with candles.
Survivalists also have multiple styles of flashlight – big square ones, pocket-sized ones, some with bendy cords that wrap around stuff, and at least a couple that attach to your head. I secretly suspect that the Survivalist mindset is rooted in a childhood fear of the dark.
I am a Comfort-Junkie. I have a couple of basic flashlights and a hurricane lamp, but darkness is not my enemy. I fear the canned beans more than the cold! The day before a storm, you will find me in the grocery store lineup with a cart full of potato chips and Oreos. There will be enough beer and wine in the trunk of my car to handle the demands of a Superbowl party. And in the hours before the first snowflake arrives, I will charge every iphone and ipad and laptop in the house, because I will not allow an extended power interruption to threaten my access to Netflix.
Yesterday, the first storm warnings popped up on Facebook and I did an initial grocery store/liquor store run. But like Survivalists, we Comfort-Junkies tend to over-plan, so today I am heading back out for additional supplies. Those two bottles of Malbec looked inadequate… What if we were storm stuck for more than 24 hours? What if we had to share with neighbours? Nova Scotia hospitality rules are very clear on this point… you must ALWAYS share your booze!
My husband broke into the Oreos last night, so our sugar-snack to salt-snack ratio is now completely out of whack. I have rice krispie squares cooling on the counter at this very moment but a backup box of Chip Ahoys may still be in order. There is plenty of cheese on hand, because I have a cheese “problem” and there is an entire drawer in the refrigerator dedicated to nothing but cheese, but I am woefully low on olives. And I will not sit through a snowstorm without olives. I will NOT!
The storm is not set to start until the middle of the night, so this evening my eldest will pop in for Sunday dinner. She is one of the Wilfully Oblivious. There is a 50/50 chance that she will be surprised to hear that bad weather is coming. The hurricane lamp I bought her a month ago is filled with decorative pebbles and upon interrogation, she will admit that she is uncertain about where her flashlight “went”. Note: Her personal belongings have been prone to vanishing for many years now. As she is quick to point out, this is not her “fault”. There is no one to blame. Inanimate items simply leave on holiday and do not return.
The only food in my daughter’s apartment will be a couple of frozen dinners, a plastic container filled with the now-toxic leftovers from last Sunday’s dinner, and a half-empty carton of potentially expired milk. This reality will not bother her because, as one of the Wilfully Oblivious, she believes that pizza delivery is one of our City’s essential services and the moment she orders her half-cheese, half pepperoni, a plough will be dispatched to clear a pathway to her front door. If true, this is very good news, since her shovel also “went” somewhere.
My husband tried to re-assure me that if there was an extended power interruption, my daughter could always come to our place. But how, I wonder? How? She lost her winter coat and replaced it with a 100% wool wrap-around with a label that instructs you to avoid getting it wet. She has six pair of fashionable “booties” but no winter boots. And she refuses to wear hats because they flatten her hair. Perhaps the pizza delivery guy, escorted by a City snow plow, could give her a lift!
As a Comfort-Junky, I cannot abide the thought that she might have to sit in the cold and the dark, without cookies or potato chips or olives. So today’s supply-journey will include a box of goodies for her and her roommate.
I will also run past Canadian Tire and grab more flashlights and more batteries. Because… who am I kidding?!?… I may be a Comfort-Junky but I am also Queen of the Survivalists. I will not drink my wine in the dark!