It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel like hot dogs

It was supposed to be the storm of the year, a blizzard of epic proportions—18” of snow starting early Monday morning and lasting through Tuesday afternoon—added to the already 8” of snow we got the day before. We thought we would be snowed in through Wednesday. I had just gone grocery shopping on Friday, but with the impending storm, I wanted to make sure I had those last couple items I forgot, like dishwasher soap and spring roll wrappers—you never know when cabin fever will produce a Chinese food craving. So, late on Sunday night before the snow started, we ran to the grocery store and B went in with me, which we both knew would more than triple the grocery bill. I asked the kids if they wanted anything special from the store, to which Ash replied, “Hot dogs.” I shrugged and surmised that her answer was no stranger than a spring roll craving. Once in the store, I ran to find the spring roll wrappers and sent B off to get hot dogs. When we met back up, there were a lot of packages of one particular brand of hot dogs in our cart. Without hesitation B said, “These were all the packages they had left of this brand, so I took them all. I’m practicing my prepping skills. The end of times.” It turns out we only got 5” of snow, but the kids will be eating hot dogs until the end of times.