Recently, my grandson asked if we had any party favors for his upcoming birthday celebration. I told him to look in a cabinet in the hall. That’s my catch-all place for things that don’t have a home anywhere else.

A few minutes later, he came running back into the kitchen, claiming he’d found all kinds of treasures.

“Show me what you found,” I said smiling.

He held up a plastic bag with three jumbo packages of straws in it.

“Why do you have so many straws?” he asked.

“Well you never know when you might need a straw,” I replied. “Maybe they were on sale and that’s why I bought so many.”

Then he held up a bag filled with empty grocery-store plastic bags.

“Why are you keeping all these plastic bags?” he asked.

“You never know,” I told him. “I might need a bag to put your muddy shoes in it or I might want to put all the mismatched socks in one of those bags.”

“But so many?” he said.

I hung my head in embarrassment. It was time to ‘fess up.

The real reason for the plastic bags was I’d heard stores were going to stop making plastic bags. Shoppers would have to bring their own bags in a move to save money. I wanted to have some in case that prediction became a reality.

A plastic bag stuffed with other plastic bags might’ve been a bit overkill.

The real reason I had all those plastic straws was because I’d heard a doomsday report about plastic straws being phased out. We’d have to use metal straws – how to sanitize those will never be clear to me – or paper ones that fall apart after one sip.

So I stocked up.

Shortage reports always get me and I fall for them every single time. This phobia started when I was a teenager.

I heard a news report that there was going to be a trucker strike and 18-wheelers wouldn’t be rolling across the United States.

There would be shortages in canned foods and household goods. But the only thing I heard was there was going to be a toilet paper shortage.

I begged my mother to stock up on the Charmin. There were seven children in our house. Just thinking about running out of toilet paper was a nightmare scenario.

When she brushed off my panic, I took matters into my own hands. I saved my money and bought a few rolls to keep in my closet.

But the trucker strike didn’t happen and everything was fine. My dad, however, thought my irrational fear about the toilet paper was hysterical. So for Christmas, he gave me a four-roll package of toilet paper.

Whenever there’s a gasoline shortage, or just the threat of one, I immediately fill up my car and never let the tank get below three quarters of a tank. I start looking for a gas station when the tank is half full.

Paranoid? Maybe. But I won’t be the one running on fumes when the gas shortage does happen.

A couple of years ago, I heard there was going to be a shortage of chocolate close to Halloween. I think there’s still a few Hershey’s candy bars somewhere in that closet along with the drinking straws and plastic bags.

There are times I didn’t panic.

I did not stock up on toilet paper during Covid.

I also did not hoard hand sanitizer.

I didn’t stockpile bottled water this summer because I heard Sprite was going to stop making the green cans, so I bought a few cases of those.

You never know – those cans could be worth money someday.

So could those straws and plastic bags.

Who’s laughing now?

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.