1. Buy lots of canned goods, especially Vienna Sausages, so they can sit uneaten in the pantry for the next 6 years.
2. Move worm composting bin out of the basement and up to high ground. Drowned worms would be a very sad (and stinky) thing.
3. Alcohol. All kinds, except for probably beer, as there is no way to keep it cold once the power goes out. I’m leaning towards the boxed red wine, myself. At least 3 liters I should think.
4. Pick up birth control pills from the pharmacy so as not to have an accidental-hurricane-baby. Since, you know, it can get kind of romantic when the power is out and there are all those lit candles everywhere. And no air conditioning or hot showers. Note to self: you do not want to have to name your first child Irene, especially if it’s a boy.
5. Try to remember where you put your flashlights after the last time you went camping. They are probably still in your car somewhere, along with the tent you’ve been meaning to bring inside for the last 8 months.
6. Have on you at all times good books and card games so as not to have to resort to having actual conversations.
7. Grocery-store boxing. Hang out in the bottled-water aisle until the shelves are nearly empty, then grab the last gallon just as someone else goes to reach for it. This may be your only opportunity in life to bitch-slap someone. Also works in the bread aisle.
8. Easy Cheese. In any other circumstances, I would have to say No. But see #3 and also: no power.
9. Mental inventory of your worldly goods to determine what, if anything, you should take with you in case of evacuation. Realize there is probably nothing save for your laptop and passport. Even if there are other important things you don’t know where they are anyway. And therefore they must not be that important.
10. Hunker down, cross your fingers, and hope for the best.