48 hours before event:
Local news teases that snow event is possible. Run to pantry to check on supplies. Eat a tablespoon of Nutella to calm nerves.

36 hours before event:
Local news states that snow event likely to happen. Run to bathroom to check toilet paper supply. Go back to pantry to check Nutella level.

24 hours before event:
Local news has developed Snowmageddon news theme. Weatherman gleefully pops up before and after commercial breaks with one liners like “Snow event of the decade,” and “Hang on to your sleds.” Get dressed in everything I own and head to Costco.

22 hours before event:
Circling parking lot at Costco realizing that it’s 42 degrees outside and wearing eighteen layers of clothing has been a major boob sweating error.

21.75 hours before event:
Wedge between two minivans at Costco, attempt to pull off sixteen layers of clothing without flashing unmentionables. Attempt fails. Passing child cries.

21.74.5 hours before event:
Grab aircraft carrier sized basket. Present Costco membership card to door greeter confused as to why it’s necessary since you can’t purchase vast quantities without card. Contemplate buying 68” t.v. Realize that 68” t.v. won’t fit in my Prius or my living room.

21.5 hours before event:
Try sample of Mrs. Crandall’s Gourmet Petit Fours. Mentally search to find proper descriptive term for petit four; settle on “waxy.” Eat second sample to confirm that Mrs. Crandall does not understand the word “gourmet.” Throw box of waxy petit fours in basket.

21 hours before event:
Attempt to do math in head to determine best value for toilet paper. Give up and play odds in 60 count being cheapest. Created navigational blind spot by placing giant toilet paper package in basket.

20.5 hours before event:
Ram three people on way to bakery. Place double pack of white bread in basket; consumed with guilt place additional double pack of gluten free brown rice loaf in basket. Come to senses and take out gluten free brown rice loaves and replace with twelve pack of croissants. Have heated discussion with myself about purchasing an emergency sheet cake.

20.45 hours before event:
Place twin pack of Nutella in basket after mentally rejecting argument that just buying chocolate frosting would be cheaper. Search for chocolate frosting.

20.40 hours before event:
Make unwise decision to secure huge can of chocolate frosting.

20.30 hours before event:
Repentingly place ten pound bag of raw broccoli in basket.

20.25 hours before event:
Eat another sample of terrible petit four. Refuse to give into urge to snag another box.

20.24 to 19.5 hours before event:
Stand in line at Costco. Ease-look at other people’s baskets. Wonder why anyone would need 48 muffins, a neon Open sign, and 64 oz. jar of mayo. Look at own basket and decide to mind my own business. Resist urge to go back to bakery for 48 muffins.

19.45 hours before event:
Present receipt to door person. Realize too late that I could have smuggled out all manner of items under giant package of toilet paper.

19.4 hours before event:
Open Nutella jar in car. Eat finger-full to calm nerves. Look longingly at croissants, talk myself out of opening package. Eat another finger dip of Nutella.

19 hours before event:
Listen to radio reports of impending snowtastrophe. Announcer proclaims “End of life as we know it” and “Kids grab your mittens.”

18.5 hours before event:
Circle parking lot at Safeway for spot. Eye Nutella jar. Throw Nutella jar out of reach.

18.45 hours before event:
Grab two gallons of milk. Remember I didn’t purchase sheet cake; grab emergency red velvet cake supplies. Secure twelve bananas.

18 hours before event:
Arrive home exhausted. Determine that I can leave supplies in car. Grab milk and petit fours.

17 hours before event:
Make myself sick on bad petit fours.

10 hours before event:
Text everyone I know about impending snow. Obsessively check school website for possibility of preemptive closure. Return to car to fetch Nutella.

8 hours before event:
Pretend to be sleeping. Think about Nutella. Roll over and squint at window repeatedly.

1 hour before event:
Think about making steel cut oatmeal. Eat piece of cake.

THE EVENT:
Panic.

.25 hours into event:
Sit on couch with spoon and jar of Nutella. Watch SNOMAGEDDON 2012 coverage.

.5 hours into event:
Field phone calls from Mom. Mom reports sitting on couch eating peanut butter with spoon while watching SNOMAGEDDON 2012 coverage. Chastise Mom while eating spoonfuls of Nutella.

.75 hours into event:
Make myself ill eating too much Nutella. Attempt to settle stomach by bringing in snow supplies. Realize I forgot purchasing the giant can of frosting.

1 hour into event:
Eat raw broccoli dipped in chocolate frosting. Consider phoning Mrs Crandall about culinary investment opportunity.

3 hours into event:
Go get thrown Nutella jar out of car.

4 hours into event:
Realize there’s no way I will use two gallons of milk before expiration date. Google recipes using milk, white bread, broccoli, and toilet paper. Bet Mrs. Crandall has recipe for milky bread broc paper.

5 hours into event:
Proclaim cabin fever. Eat banana.

8 hours into event:
Exhausted from eating, attempt to revive myself by eating croissant.

9.5 hours into event:
Take major “private time” in bathroom. Find storage for 59 rolls of toilet paper.

10 hours into event:
Think about getting into bed. Realize that it’s 7pm. Eat slice of cake for dinner.