So three hours later I wake up to the sound of rain and thunder and a severe thunderstorm warning on the television. I looked out the window and saw hail. I think hail is one of the coolest things, no pun intended. In any case, I see that the thunderstorm warning is upgraded to a tornado watch. So, I'm watching, I'm watching and then I hear what sounds like a distant train.
I live very close to a train and this is not an uncommon occurrence, however from watching storm chasers, I know that tornados sound like trains. So, I look out the window for the train, I don't see it. And then I started to act like my first dog George when it would storm. I thought, I'm on the second floor, the roof blows off this thing and I'm gone. So, I come to my room and start to get under my bed, then I remember that people hide in the bathroom, so I go to the bathroom and sit in the dark on the tub. I don't know, whenever they interview survivors they always say they were in the tub.
Finally after the noise passed and the rain died down I came out and realized that I probably was in no danger whatsoever, but it was a nice little drill in disaster preparedness. In my defense I was awakened by this freakish noise and greenish sky, and if you are one of my college roommates or a family member you know that my cognitive skills upon waking are near zero if not in the negative.
In any case, I was glad it stopped because I had to go to the store. I was getting ready to go to the grocery store and get gas in my car for the week, when I heard the familiar tick of the sixty minutes stop watch. I had to stay and watch how the computer virus is going to render millions of computers helpless and steal sensitive banking information from millions, all done from adolescent Russians who hate the thriving economy of the West. Or so they surmise.
Being utterly uplifted by the impending doom, I drove to Dunkin Donuts for coffee because my head was pounding and then to the gas station where the previous events of the evening left me somewhat paranoid. Upon completion there, I drove to Giant.
I didn't make a list which was a big mistake because it took way longer than it should have and many shoppers got to see my show consisting of me walking up and down each aisle uttering incoherent words to myself trying to remember what I need.
As I was walking up one of the aisles I saw a section of jarred and canned meat products. I cannot imagine anyone voluntarily ingesting spicy sausage found in a jar of who knows what. Right beside it was a lovely selection of canned hams. I understand storage is key, but looking at them and thinking about what is in them made me feel a bit queasy. So I continued shopping, finished and left.
On my way home I had flashbacks of the jar of meat. It reminded me of lab experiments that float in formaldehyde. And to see it next to canned ham as a suggestion like you find on the internet, people who buy jarred meat, also consider ... had me wondering who buys this stuff. Really the only canned meat I find worth entertaining any of my thoughts are Dave Letterman's Big Ass Hams.
Then I realized that I'm probably being a spoiled person yet again. For much of the world's history people had to preserve their food any way they could. Refrigeration and fresh foods are a modern day luxury if we think about it. And if like some people say, there will be another disaster or a food shortage in general, someday I may think that canned and jarred meat looks pretty good.
While that day is not today, and I can say with pretty convincing certainty, that day will be no time this week, it could be soon. And who knows, if the storm did turn out to be a tornado and I needed something to eat, I would be pretty thankful to find a dented can of minced pig with the key still attached.
