Survival Instinct

In response to learning of a sudden, unscheduled and indefinite cessation of my paying work, I decided to go disaster shopping. It seemed more constructive than sitting around panicking about how to pay for the plane tickets to Nepal I charged to my Amex last week.

I used to have an earthquake-preparedness stash of food and drink, but over the years I nibbled it into nonexistence, leaving only a camp stove. But today’s rising sun’s rosy rays proclaimed an end to that era. I may not be in a state of employment, but you can bet I’ll be ready for a state of emergency.

Unexpected freedom, it turns out, nurtures my neuroses into brilliant bloom.

At Costco, a crowd four-bodies-deep was trying to reach the bottled water. I’ve never seen anything like it. And everyone was buying a bunch of it: cases and cases. I wondered if we all know something we don’t know we know. I heard a fellow water-gatherer speak Spanish to her family. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to try.“Mucha … gente. Compran. Agua hoy,” I struggled. The poor woman’s response was an infinitely polite, infinitely blank stare. Time to log onto my spanishpod account and do a pronunciation lesson.

In addition to six flats of bottled water, I bought soup (canned, organic), soup (dried, inorganic), kidney beans, tuna fish, Pepperidge Farm goldfish, peanut butter, saltines, red licorice, dried apples, bacon bits, gummy bears, Dove chocolate squares, macadamia nuts, peppermint gum and other essentials totaling $330.

A nice Costco employee (much younger than I, but accentless) saw me wrestling my freighter-sized flatbed across the parking lot and offered assistance — but then hesitated. “Maybe you don’t need help. You look pretty strong.” Which one of you paid him for that?

Still, we worked side-by-side unloading ton and after ton of c-rations into my car. He’d been studying technical writing for the computer industry, but realized he hates technology. Instead, for the time being he’s shepherding shopping carts.

Back at home, in the seven-thousand degree heat, I hauled load after heavy load up the front steps, across the house, down the back stairs and into the basement, with neighbors looking on, bewildered, possibly wondering if they have a new convert to survivalism in their midst. When the Big One hits, I’ll share my goodies with them. Except I might have to eat the chocolate first. So it doesn’t melt and all.