The Great Coffee Apocalypse

I like to think I am someone who is ready for whatever disaster comes my way, be it a bad winter storm, empty grocery store shelves or Yellowstone blowing us all to smithereens.

Of course if the latter happens, I won’t really need a year’s worth of food stored or to know how to open a can of tuna without a can opener (it can be done!). Still, there’s a *slight* chance I might survive “the big one” especially if the initial blast and ash cloud travel any direction but south west, so I want to be prepared for the short and the long term.

Which is why we have a homestead and why we raise and store our own food and why I bought this adorable little coffee plant so someday it will produce the magic beans we’ll need to get us through the end of days.

That, my friends, is the epitome of long term prepping.

This morning I realized I am a terrible short term prepper.

It started when the hubs called out from the kitchen, “Hey, babe? Where’s the coffee?”.

Panic.

What do you mean, where’s the coffee?

“It’s in the cabinet, babe!” I yelled back, feeling a bit sad for him that he’s obviously showing early, early, early signs of dementia or maybe his eyesight is going (or both). I mean, it’s right there. In the cabinet. Poor guy!

“No, it’s not!” he yelled back.

“Yes, it is!” I said back, but only in my head. I didn’t want trouble that early in the day.

So, I got up, pulled my robe on, and headed in, trying not to let him see the look of sadness for us both on my face.

But when I looked, he was right. It wasn’t there. What the??

I could have sworn there was another can of coffee under the cabinet. I was 1,000% sure there was! My backup can is always there, all snug on the shelf next to the peanuts and oatmeal, ready to fulfill its duty and provide us with the morning caffeine boost we both so desperately need and love.

But it wasn’t there.

The peanuts and oatmeal were there, and there’s an empty space where the coffee can should be, but it’s just… gone!

My first thought was someone broke in and stole my can of McCafe! Do I dial 911? Do I call the regular, non-emergency number?? Doesn’t this constitute an emergency?? Will the police bring us some of their coffee when they come to take the report? Will they even have coffee since we live in Mormon territory?

Will they even care or will they think we deserved it for drinking the devil’s brew?? If they did care, would they even believe me?

Why would someone go to all the trouble to break in, risk waking up the pack who would most likely give them away with their barking and whining and saying “I wruvvv yoooouuu!!!” hoping the coffee burglar would toss them a cookie while he’s in the kitchen, and then having to face two very grumpy and well armed homeowners who are willing to do whatever necessary to protect our property, especially our spare can of coffee?!

That would be crazy!

My next thought was to check to see if my little coffee plant had somehow grown any magic beans that I could roast real quick…

Of course not. It’s probably still mad at me for taking so long to transplant it.

Then, I remembered we have the antique coffee grinder on the wall that we added some beans to for decoration…

…like five years ago.

Yuck!

But still… it is coffee!

We debated it for like five seconds before the hubs reminded me that bad coffee is worse than no coffee. Then we argued about that for a minute or so.

Finally, I thought, I need some dang coffee to calm down so I can think straight because none of this makes sense.

Where did my spare can of coffee go?????? πŸ€”πŸ€”πŸ€”

So the hubs offered to run to the store while my next move was to go straight to our emergency storage space where I have stored a few pounds of Armageddon coffee beans.

(I wish this was my stash!)

But then I remembered that we used the vacuum sealer to seal them and then put that into a bucket that is also sealed shut because, well, that’s what you’re supposed to do with emergency food!

That’s what good preppers do, dang it!

As I’m standing there staring at the white bucket with the words COFFEE written carefully across the lid, debating whether or not to tell the hubs to forget the store and come pry it open, I had a sudden flash.

I remembered that when the hub’s sister came to stay last week for a few days, we sent the extra can of coffee out to the camper with her since that’s our “guest house”.

Whew!

Lucky for me the hubs already had his shoes on and was willing to go out there and get it because I was pretty exhausted from all that nonsense and really just wanted to go back to bed.

And lucky for us she didn’t drink it all or accidentally pack it in her suitcase before she left, because that would have been horrific. πŸ™‚

2 thoughts on “The Great Coffee Apocalypse

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