I was driving home from the east side of the mountains, having successfully and painlessly navigated the mountain pass. As I drove off of the ferry, snow blew right into my car: huge, fluffy flakes the size of which we seldom see here in the NorthWet.

As I started up the hill on the highway, my brain began its check-off list: before you go home, check your post office box. Go to the bank if your paycheck is there. What else do I need?

And I realized:

I don't need anything.

Really, I don't?

No, you don't.

But what if I need soup, or candles, or, or . . . (mild agitation starting)

You don't. You have soup. You have a JetBoil and fuel. You have a Coleman stove. You have water saved up. You have soy milk in aseptic boxes. You're taken care of.

(doubtfully) I am? Really? You wouldn't joke about this, would you?

Nope. You planned, and now all you have to do is go home and hunker down with a hot cup of tea, a book, and the kitties.

All I have to do . . . ?

All you have to do.

(relieved) Okay. Wow.