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Today I opened up the styrofoam ice chest that's been in the back of my closet since I moved here, it's part of what my kid refers to as my "armageddon stash". I do not stockpile. In fact I think it might backfire on us all. It occured to me that if and when something happens where people really do need to break into their stashes, that means their neighbors might be hungry, which means it wouldn't be right, and fights are going to break out and then the cops will have to get involved, then they'll probably crack down and make everybody turn their stuff in for the common good. And then you will hang your head and let out a long sigh as you realize all your time and effort was wasted. At least that's how I feel about it. I'd rather have my token 6 weeks worth of goods and then when I get low, expect a miracle. Or just go ahead and starve.

So about this ice chest. It has all my fire supplies in it. I laughed as I opened it up and examined the contents. It's all about fire. But the only problem is, I only seem to be focused on lighting it. It looks like I didn't think too far past that. I have several packs of dollar store lighters, dollar store matches, and even a thing of lighter fluid, which I don't even know how to use. And then there's my spiffy little .. what is it? All I know is, I ordered it off this survival website back in '05. That's when I got all this stuff. When I moved to that little house in Red Oak. I was terrified there. Absolutely terrified. That's when I started thinking about surviving, is when I lived there. I guess I had good reason to be thinking along those lines. I should have stocked up on bug spray though. But about my little oven thing. I don't know what it is. But it came with a long-burning candle that goes in it, and you can actually cook things on it. Like a little campstove. I think it's cute. You should have seen me each time there was a bad storm. I got my supplies out and set them on the counter, all ready. My daughter laughed at me. We also had a rat or two at that place. I had to learn to set a trap. That was horrible. I never caught any. I just gave up and started throwing things up into the attic to drive them away. Everything. Laundry soap, mothballs, pinecones, boric acid. Salt. Eucalyptus leaves. You name it. I threw it up there. It worked! The rats/mice left. I wonder what the landlord thought about it when he went up there and saw it all. I also left over a hundred gallons of water up there. Just in case. Because when the electricity went out there, the water went out too! I'm telling you, that place was scary! And did I ever mention that I found out that it used to be a crackhouse? That explains the strange people who would show up every now and then with a shifty feel to them, knocking on my door and asking if so and so was home. Why did I live there? How did this happen? Can I go back in time and not move there?