The snow apocalypse appears to have ended. Roads are being cleared.

And yet… my house looks like I’m preparing to open a small convenience store.

During the storm, I was convinced we’d be snowed in until spring. Possibly summer. Maybe forever. The news said “accumulation,” and my brain heard, “society as we know it is over.”

So I did what any rational adult would do: I panic bought.

Now that the snow has melted, I’m left staring at the evidence.

What I Thought I’d Need to Survive:

• Enough bread to feed a village
• Milk in quantities usually reserved for dairy farms
• Snacks. So many snacks. Snacks for emotions I haven’t even had yet.
• Emergency cookies (for morale)

What I Forgot Entirely:

• The one item I actually went to the store for
• Any plan whatsoever
• Self-control

I didn’t buy groceries. I hoarded possibilities.

I have three types of pasta, none of which I normally eat.
I have soup for illnesses we don’t currently have.
I have frozen foods that require motivation I absolutely do not possess.

And now that life is back to normal, I’m stuck eating “storm meals” while the rest of the world casually moves on.

“Why are we having canned chili for lunch?”
“Because the blizzard version of me was scared and reckless.”

The worst part? The confidence I had while shopping.

I didn’t hesitate.
I didn’t question.
I thought, Yes. Twelve granola bars makes sense. I am a provider.

Now I open the pantry and feel judged by my own choices.

Every snack whispers, You thought this was necessary.

But hey—if another snowstorm hits?
I’m ready.
Emotionally? No.
But snack-wise? Absolutely.

Until then, I’ll be over here, eating apocalypse groceries in a perfectly normal world, pretending this was all part of a plan.

Because nothing says “I survived winter” like realizing you’ll be finishing panic-bought crackers sometime in July.