I can say with 99 percent certainty that you’re going to survive coronavirus. This pandemic crisis shall pass – whether we have to deal with a prolonged economic crisis as a result (I don’t want to utter the dreaded D-word) is another story that, quite frankly, I don’t want to think about.
So, let me ask you – if you’re one of the poor souls scrambling for necessary supplies because you never thought to plan for disaster, what did you learn?
There are two morals to take with you and hold dear once we all get through this. The first one is that normalcy bias sucks.
All’s Well Just Because it Is.
Normalcy bias, in plain English, is the belief that tomorrow will turn out just fine because yesterday was just fine, as was the day before, and so on.
That, of course, is a stupid way to look at life. I didn’t break my arm tomorrow, and I didn’t break my arm today, so I’ll never break my arm. I was alive yesterday, and I’m alive today, so I must be immortal.
I’ve said it ad nauseam – prepping for disaster after a disaster strikes is far too late. You need to be ready for bad times before they happen. When your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, it’s too late to learn auto mechanics. When your friend clutches his heart and falls to the ground, it’s too late for you to decide to learn CPR.
Put another way, the people mobbing my local Costco to stock up at the last minute will likely also bring home the coronavirus along with milk and toilet paper. That’s the price of being caught flat-footed.
When The Dust Settles
You’re almost certainly going to survive this. Like I wrote in another post, this isn’t The Stand, and you’re not going to be a one-in-50,000 survivor who has to choose between siding with Mother Abigail in Boulder or Randall Flagg in Las Vegas.
When this is all over, are you going to throw out your supplies and go back to living for the moment and thinking that disasters only happen to other people on the nightly news? Or are you going to be more prudent for the next disaster?
Because, dear reader, another disaster will come. Maybe it will be a tornado, or an earthquake, or a major economic downturn. Or maybe the next pandemic will be something a lot deadlier and a lot more contagious.
I said earlier that there are two morals to this ongoing story. Here’s the other one:
You ultimately are responsible for your well-being, and that of your family.
It’s not my job, or your friends’ job. Not the government, not the president, not FEMA, not anybody else. You.
I’ve been saying you’re going to survive this disaster. If you go back to sticking your head in the sand, you may not be so lucky next time.