Reminder to self: Buy stock in companies making bread, milk and toilet paper each January, assuming I get enough money someday to buy stock.

Scientists long for extreme conditions so they can keep track of our silly human behavior. Some of these geeky folk would love to build giant mazes for us to live in. These scientists could track how our mind works by monitoring whether or not our heart beats faster when bells ring or when whistles blow. They could see how long it would take us to learn to run through the maze and receive a free cookie. They could watch us fight each other because one person got a chocolate chip cookie and someone else got a vanilla wafer. I can see the glee of the scientists as they were given access to the human brain through watching our behavior if we were stuck in a box.

Have you ever played the game, Desert Island? You know, if you could take ten things to have with you while you are stuck on a desert island, what would you take? Usually I’ve heard it as taking one person on the island with you, or which ten musical albums would you take. It’s a mental exercise to determine what you value. In your head, you determine if you can live the rest of your life only eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or if you really truly can live without that ZZ Top album or if you could stand being with a supermodel day in and day out.

None of this is necessary. It appears that you’ve already determined what is really important to you. It’s what you bought last Friday and Saturday when you knew there was a huge blizzard coming in. Think about it. You planned as if snow would have you buried until March, so you stocked up on bread, milk and toilet paper. I saw the store shelves. I know you bought all that. But what else did you make sure you had before the flakes flew? I would submit that it is those things you made sure you had that you are addicted to. It’s our “living in a maze” or “stuck on a desert island” scenario. Extreme conditions descending from out of a scientists’ imagination is getting ready to befall you, so you run out and grab what?

Well, the obvious examples are beer and cigarettes. (Kinda proves the whole addiction argument, eh?) If you can’t stand being snowed in for a week without the cigs, this tells you what you probably already knew. If you knew you couldn’t watch the Florida State-Auburn game without a case of cold ones, congratulations on your addiction. A friend of mine had a large diet cola delivered to her on Monday because the pressure was mounting. I don’t know how it was delivered, (snowmobile, unmanned drone, Meals on Wheels) but she was out and needed some soda. I’d call that an addiction. Others I heard were pretzels, ice cream, new books, diapers, and crossword puzzles. I’ve never had an addiction to eating diapers, but apparently somebody does.

I did catch part of some TV show called Addictions the other night and saw some huge woman who claims she is addicted to eating mattresses. Yeah, that’s what I said. She eats those cheap foam rubber mattresses like they were made of potato chips. I’d hate to see this lady craving a new mattress in the middle of a foot-deep downfall, especially if she needs a couple of pillows as chasers. Authorities would find her in an empty house wrapped in buttons and zippers with breath smelling like foam rubber. Nobody needs to see that.

So remember in your mind that one thing you made sure was in the house before the ground was covered. That’s your addiction. Can’t think of anything? You must have been well-stocked already. Or not snowed in long enough. For those who had to go cold turkey for a few hours, I’m sorry. And congratulations. I knew you can do it.