“Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.”
-The Road by Cormac McCarthy
I’ve gotten back to getting rid of things in my house again in preparation for this whole moving thing I’m going to do. It surprises (and sometimes shocks) me how easily I can take things I’ve owned for decades and put them on Craigslist or haul them to the curb or box them up for Goodwill. I feel like maybe something is wrong with me, I enjoy it so much.
Then I come to the blankets.
I blame my reluctance to give up blankets on my early obsession with Stephen King’s The Stand, which I first read when I was in the fifth grade and which I’ve reread every few years ever since (the original, not the horrid expanded version). This got me started on my love of apocalyptic scenarios, which eventually led me to read The Road by Cormac McCarthy, which honed my fear that I may be stuck cold and without enough blankets when the end comes. And so now when I was boxing up blankets to put in my trunk and take away this weekend, all I could think about was how much I am going to regret this when I’m freezing to death after a catastrophic event some will call ambiguous even though it is so clearly an atomic bomb.
Then I got to thinking about why I don’t own a shopping cart.
Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer (who is coming to TBF this year–WOOOOO!) also makes a good argument for the hoarding of blankets, although it makes an even better one for toilet paper and canned goods. Both of which I also have in good quantity.
The thing is that even if I have a shopping cart when the end comes, I’m not going to be able to fit all this stuff in the cart to carry it around. This is why the end of the world is so complicated. There isn’t a good example out there of how to survive it comfortably without sustaining a major injury or turning into a killing machine. Or both.
This entire line of thinking might partially explain why it has taken me so long to decide to sell my house.