News from Shakes Manor

Iain continually teases me (affectionately) about my habit of constantly imagining all the ways that anything and everything could possibly go wrong, and then taking measures to avoid those outcomes or making preparations in case they happen.

He used to call me the Fire Marshall, until I told him he's not allowed to call me that anymore, owing to the fact that I've literally had to extinguish fires he's started accidentally.

Now he just calls me a catastrophist.

Everyone who knows me knows that I am an over-planner in the extreme, concerned primarily with safety. Deeky has rolled his eyes at me and given me heaving sighs on countless occasions for insisting he put on his seatbelt.

"We're in a parking lot! We're not even moving yet!"

"I KNOW, but a car could rear-end us while we're stationary, and if you're not wearing your seatbelt—"

"Oh for fuck's sake. I'm putting it on."

It's not that I expect that the worst is going to happen. I just want to be prepared in case it does! Or not even the worst: If even the most minor inconvenience can be avoided by a little planning, you can bet I'm already contemplating how to avoid it.

The other night, after suggesting we take some action to avoid a possible outcome so ridiculously minor I can't even remember it, Iain was again teasing me about my catastrophism.

"Look," I told him, through laughter, "some people are Doomsday Preppers; I'm an Everyday Prepper. I don't care about the apocalypse; I just want to survive the day with as little trouble as possible."

He laughed and hugged me. And I suspect that from here to eternity, I will be asked if there's any Everyday Prepping we need to do before we leave the house.

Trust that there always will be.

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