Shopping before a snowstorm? Just check your pandemic pantry

When you hear that a big super-mega ultra-massive snowstorm is headed toward us, you go through three steps:

You snicker about the people who will run out to buy bread and milk and toilet paper.

You wonder if it's just a cliché that people run out to buy bread and milk and toilet paper.

You think, you know, maybe I should go get some bread and milk and toilet paper.

Just in case! We could be stuck at home for 24 hours. What if we have to make the 2% last by watering it down so much it's 1%, which is basically albino water? C'mon, think ahead! They're talking 3 feet of snow! This is no time to ration out the toast!

Then I remembered: I have some powdered milk in the emergency pantry. I don't have evaporated milk, because I always suspect that the can will be empty. Don't say we didn't warn you on the label. When I opened the emergency bin, I had a horrible flash of things repressed. Because everything in the bin was from March 2020. Here it was, the pandemic hoard.

Bottles of hand sanitizer, which were priceless in those early days. Couldn't get any, anywhere. A store got a shipment, everyone queued. Someone bought more than two bottles, he got a straight-up Minnesota silent scowling from everyone in line. "I've got a big family! My kids, they've all got an extra hand! Live and let live, OK?" There was that horrible teetering moment when everyone else considered buying three bottles, but we foresaw the result: total societal collapse. It's skin-of-the-teeth as it is.

Disinfecting towelettes, which you used to wipe off everything that was delivered, including the pizza. Tasted awful afterwards, but remember, stay safe.

A box of masks, the fine print on which said, in essence, "These are not good for much, really." Blue side out, or white side out? I was blue-side-out for a while, until I realized I had it wrong and probably made white-side-outers think they had it wrong.

Yeast. So much yeast. I remember going to the store to get supplies to make bread, because we were all going to have a homey lockdown, making bread. There wasn't any yeast, and there wasn't any flour. And, of course, they were out of bread. You imagined going back home from your dangerous run into the Poisoned Zone to see the hopeful faces of your kin: "Did you get the yeast? Oh, tell us you found some yeast!"

"No, children, but it's fine. We'll soak some newspapers in a little vegetable oil and bake them. We'll call it Victory Toast."

The emergency pantry also had a bale of toilet paper. I remember thinking, "Well, there's nothing to eat, and there's no toilet paper, I guess that works out." But, of course, there was lots to eat. You just expected it all to vanish. "No chicken today, mister, but we got some hog knuckles. Don't tell anyone, but since you're a good customer, thought you should know we might be getting in a shipment of weasel loins tomorrow. Be here at sunrise."