In case of nuclear holocaust, let's meet in my basement. We're good for at least a month on the food down there.
I'm having my in-laws over for dinner tonight (fajita burritos, hopefully as good as at that one restaurant we used to go to every week before we moved). I am going to make a cake for dessert. There are three boxes of yellow cake mix on my shelves (one Betty Crackpot, one duncan hines, and one pillsbury). I picked the one with the closest expiration date which is Pillsbury. Oddly, there was only one can of frosting, which means I need at least two to go with the cake I already have.
Right now, in my home, there are no less than 30 boxes of cereal. It's an addiction really. I have 12 large cans of diced tomatoes (you like chili, right?). I have a flat of cream soups and another flat of canned mushrooms. I have an instutional sized can of fruit cocktail. I have over 700 ounces of laundry detergent. I easily have 15 pounds of beef. I would not be surprised to learn that I have 20 pounds of frozen vegetables. I have 12 pounds of sugar and 15 pounds of flour (in three or more varieties: unbleached all-purpose, cake, whole wheat, and bread flour). I have five tubs of oatmeal.
I have at least 20 liters of pop, which we do not drink but have just in case company comes over (which they never do). I have six bags of chips, which is a two-month supply if not more. The chips are in addition to Fritos, pretzels, crackers, crisps, and other snack-y foods.
I am now going to get all philosophical about why I do this. Sure, I do a lot of cooking and we eat most of our meals at home, and it is the rare occasion that something goes bad and I need to discard it. But, when I was growing up, we didn't always have food. OK, that's not true. I suppose I was never in danger of going hungry, but we did sometimes have to wait until payday to have milk (and cereal with water is gross). And sometimes there wasn't anything normal to eat. I have a vivid memory of eating seasoned breadcrumbs one day for a snack. And my mother used to complain bitterly about the price of two of the things I liked (and still do like) best: fresh fruit and cereal (never did I see her complain about the price of cigarettes, switch to generics, or wait until payday for them, but I digress*). With the internets as my witness, Chuckles will never have to eat breadcrumbs. Now if he wants to eat them, that's a different story.
* - For the record, Mimi is now a doting and loving grandmother whose financial situation is quite a bit better. And she quit smoking. Good for her.