Zombie Apocalypse?
People ask me all the time why we have so much food storage in the basement. Or rather, they don’t ask; they tease, based on a certain set of assumptions. “Are you preparing for the zombie apocalypse?” “How do you think the world is going to end? They’re invariably disappointed when I confirm that, yes, we have 12–18 months’ worth of food storage in our basement at any given time and no, I don’t think the world is going to end. I’m not preparing for the end of the world, or for anything in particular; except tomorrow.
I’ve said before that, at least for someone who writes about demons and cannibalism and incest all day, I’m surprisingly boring. In real life, when not dwelling on whether I’ve achieved the right sex to story ratio for the upcoming modern-day romantic trilogy, I worry about things like budgeting. Probably at least in part due to the circumstances of my childhood, I have a morbid fear of running out. Of not having enough. No, not enough purses and makeup; I could care less. Enough food. Enough water. Enough roof over my head. So naturally, food storage–like all sensible methods of preparedness–helps with those that, in that it is sensible.
The simplest way to think about food storage is as a second bank account. One, ideally, should have both an emergency savings of cash and an emergency savings of food. So that when tough times hit, you aren’t relying on your credit cards to get by. The principle is simple, not to mention old as the hills: put some by in times of plenty, so it’s there in times of want. I read and re-read the Little House books when I was a child, and The Long Winter in particular made a lasting impression on me. Laura’s future husband and his brother survived handily, while others starved, because they’d saved. They did not, however, share. And, regardless of one’s religious (or political) beliefs, I think a decent person should share. Why this woman would have grown up to marry a man who’d felt no guilt, eating his dinner, while he knew perfectly well that she was starving…well, that’s a topic for another day.
These days, tough times revolve more around job loss, and unexpected expenses–medical bills, etc. It’s a good thing, to be able to help people by bringing them groceries. Groceries from my basement, yes, but groceries nonetheless.
My husband and I have been together a long time now. We’ve been impoverished students, unemployed parents, successful attorneys. And through it all, we’ve had food storage. Which, at times, we’ve had to rely on. That was a long time ago now and, I’m grateful to say, a comparatively short period in our lives; far more often, we’ve been grateful for our food storage because it meant not going out in a blizzard for milk.
I’m not going to lie: living frugally takes discipline and, much like being on, say, a long term diet, there are times when you mess up. Fall off the wagon. Sometimes you get right back on, and sometimes you don’t. Making the decision that what you can afford to spend isn’t simply the number in your bank account means going without some things that other people in your life are going to have. I know people, mainly through my old job, who constantly post pictures of themselves in exotic locales. Do I feel a stab of jealousy? Of course! I know that many of these people are up to their eyeballs in credit card debt (because they’re not making a secret of that fact), but it’s still hard. Being able to say, I have no credit card debt at all is cold comfort, when the green-eyed monster is upon you.
When we bought our house–it was a short sale, and we also own it free and clear–it was a disaster. I mean, there was a reason no one else wanted this house. Fortunately for us, the problems (re: Reynolds Wrap wallpaper) were all cosmetic. The house had good bones, it was just hideous. So we put our painting and woodworking (and cleaning!) skills to use, and a few years later the same people who’d ridiculed us for buying the place were overcome by how awesome it looked.
Which is a useful metaphor for writing a book–for doing anything, really. You have to be able to visualize why you’re doing this, and perceive benefits in the actual process rather than in simply the reward. Because the reward may be a very long time in coming. If you don’t know why you’re saving a quarter of your income, or why you’ve got so much wheat in the basement, or why you’re spending a portion of each day writing a book, then you’re never going to do anything useful with any of these things.
Food storage, like writing, like saving, like everything else, is about potential. Freedom. The freedom to live according to your own standards, to make choices according to your own heart. It’s not the zombie apocalypse at some far-off time but taking a leap and publishing a book today. Deciding to quit your day job and write full time today.
PS: For those of you interested in learning more about the brand of food storage we use, click here. For those of you who’d like to chat with our friendly consultant, who’s been a tremendous help to our family in assessing and planning for our food storage needs, click here. I don’t sell Thrive Life (I couldn’t sell air conditioners to Hell) and am not affiliated with Thrive Life in any way; I just like their food. It tastes good. And it kept me fed while writing The Price of Desire, which I did while bedridden during my “near death” phase.
