So we have MREs (meals ready to eat, which yes, you can get from Amazon, how did you guess?) in the basement, along with cheap bottles of water, containers that can be filled with water in case we get forewarning, and cash stashed in odd places that don’t look worth investigating in case of break-in. In the car we have our bug-out bag (yes, with a change of underwear—actually, more than just underwear, because who knows?) containing food, bagged water, medications, recommended evacuation routes (we live near Three Mile Island, so we get free updates every year) and (in a separate part of the vehicle) more cash, plus a collapsible shovel which can be used in snow (already convenient once) or dig a hole to hide a body (not yet, but check in later).
[unstifled, wild, hysterical laughter]
With all that prep for the end of the world, the thing that’ll probably “getcha” will be something innocuous like slipping on an icy walkway. This conversation right here convinces me it’s not the bag that’s bugged out. It’s you two!
Y’all crazy. Crazy in love. And just plain crazy. LOL!
But I’m not judging. (O, allright. Just a little.)