The Apocalypse and Me (Part 1)

If you’ll indulge me, I want to talk to you about toilet paper.

AKA Gold on a Roll. 2-Ply Platinum. Under-the-Sink Silver.

(I just made  those up—feel free to use.)

I have a confession about TP. Actually, it’s more like a brag: I started buying an extra pack here and there starting way back in eary February—Februrary 4, to be specific— after the first case of coronavirus showed up in my area, in a UMass Boston student who’d returned from visiting Wuhan province.

I happened to go to the doctor’s office just after the news came out,  for a minor kitchen knife injury.  The doctors and nurses were all wearing masks, which seemed odd, and I wondered if it was coronavirus related. I was about to ask, when the doctor said something along the lines of how a knife gash was a refreshing change of pace (you’re welcome! I thought) because all day he’d seen nothing but flu cases. “Hence the mask.”

I said something to the effect of being more worried about catching the flu than catching the coronavirus.

“Oh, I’d be worried about that, too,” the doctor said with a tense laugh.

“Really?” I said. (I mean, I was, in fact, worried, but I’d been trying to play it all cool, like.)

“Definitely,” he said. He then vented a bit about how crazy it was that they weren’t quarantining or tracking the people who’d been on the UMass student’s flight, or who’d been in the campus health services office where he’d gone when he felt sick, or who lived in his dorm or apartment.

“We’re going to start seeing cases,” the doctor said. “It could get bad.”  (He then proceeded to pour what felt like hydrochloric acid into my cut.)

That was when I started adding an pack of toilet paper to my cart. I let Alastair know that I was starting to slowly stocking up on paper goods, and extra non-perishable foods. Not hoarding or buying in mass quantities all at once…just gradually supplementing. “Things could get bad with this coronavirus,” I told him, trying my best to emulate the knowing tone my doctor had used.

Alastair rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“Just wait,” I said.

(Isn’t it fun when you turn out to be right and your spouse is wrong?)

Alastair has teased me for years for my mild prepper streak—specifically, the fact that I always stock up before blizzards or hurricanes: a few gallons of water, a box or two of shelf-safe milk, extra peanut butter (in one of my favorite apocalypse-ish books, The Age of Miracles, they talk about the shortage of peanut butter; in fact there has been a run on my favorite kind of peanut butter) and, yes, toilet paper.  And exactly zero times have we had to actually dip into my storm-preparedness supplies. So his teasing is somewhat justified.

But I still say better safe than sorry.

I’m a fan of meal planning and pantry cooking in general, so while we always have a healthy collection of canned and dry goods on hand, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also think of it as insurance against a possible catastrophic event.  Same with the water purification tablets. (Ostensibly for hiking and camping trips, but they’re good to have on hand regardless.) And the propane stove. (Again, primarily for camping. But also convenient in the event of, say, a nuclear winter.) And the hand-crank / solar radio and phone charger. (Really, just a precaution against a run-of-the-mill power outage. OR IS IT?) And the arsenal of Glocks, Sig Sauers, AR-10s, and C4. (Just kidding. We own no firearms or explosives. But there are the aforementioned kitchen knives, and I’m fairly confident some of them are sharp enough to puncture zombie skull.)

A good friend of mine jokes about how if there’s an apocalyptic event, she and her family are going to head straight over to our house.  At which point I say: Make sure you get gas on the way here. You’ll need a full tank in case we need to make a run for the Canadian border.  And fill up a couple of extra containers for good measure.

This same friend gave me a book on skills to have for the end of the world, like hunting, seed saving and, for some reason, cheesemaking. I always sort of though of cheese as a “nice to have,” not a “need to have,” in the event that the Yellowstone supervolcano blows, but apparently the authors of the book feel differently. So I always make sure I have a few boxes of good crackers on hand.

To be clear, though: My prepping tendencies aren’t borne out of fear or anxiety, exactly. Rather, I get some kind of perverse satisfaction from the mere fact of being prepared for emergency situations. Or maybe it’s not perverse at all. Maybe it’s natural to enjoy the notion of being able to exert some small measure of control over the uncontrollable and keep one’s family alive in the process.

OK, but back to the toilet paper for a second: I’m realizing I should have been a little more aggressive in my gradual stocking up, because I’m not sure we’ll make it through the month. I just didn’t want to incite a panic. Because then all of the peanut butter would have sold out.

Tune in next time, for part 2 of this post: A Man Explains to me Why I like Apocalypse Books / Movies