THE CHECKLIST

NOTICE

Two hundred and twelve items. It has grown by one each time the date moved, and it grows by one whenever someone asks me a question that turns out to be an item. Start at 1. Stop at 100 for tea. Nothing on this list is urgent, and all of it is worth doing on an ordinary Tuesday, which is when I recommend doing it.

Printable. Use the browser's print function. It fits on a few sheets. Keep one by the door. Keep one in the envelope (item 30).

001 Call your mother. (If you can't, call someone's.)
002 Write down the phone numbers you have memorized. You have fewer than you think.
003 Water. More than feels reasonable. Then one more.
004 Know where the shutoff valve is. Go look. Now, not later.
005 Flashlight, kitchen drawer.
006 Flashlight, bedside.
007 Flashlight, by the door. (Three is not many. Three is a start.)
008 Batteries, AA.
009 Batteries, AAA.
010 Batteries, D. (Nobody has D. Be the one who has D.)
011 A radio that does not need the internet.
012 A clock that does not need the internet. (I have several. They disagree. Pick one and trust it.)
013 Candles, and something to light them with, kept apart from each other.
014 A can opener that is not electric.
015 Know your neighbors' names. Both sides. Across.
016 A hand-crank or battery lantern.
017 Matches, in a jar, with the lid on.
018 A first-aid kit you have actually opened and looked through.
019 Bandages, more than you'd think.
020 A notebook. Pencils. Pens freeze; pencils don't.
021 A thermometer.
022 Aspirin or what you take instead.
023 Any prescription, a week ahead if the pharmacist allows it.
024 Hand sanitizer.
025 Blankets, one more than there are people.
026 Toilet paper. (Say it plainly. Everyone thinks of it last and first.)
027 Paper towels.
028 Garbage bags, heavy.
029 Zip ties.
030 The documents, in one envelope, somewhere you could find in the dark.
031 A multi-tool.
032 A hammer.
033 Cash. Small bills. Nobody can make change at the end of things.
034 Nails, assorted, in a tin.
035 A tarp.
036 Work gloves.
037 A broom.
038 A dustpan.
039 A bucket lid. (Buckets without lids are bowls.)
040 Milk (powdered). I have been told this is a betrayal. It is a checklist.
041 Coffee, or whatever you are without. Be honest about this item.
042 Rags.
043 Bleach, labeled, away from the food.
044 Rubber gloves.
045 Salt.
046 Sugar.
047 Rice.
048 Beans, dry.
049 Beans, canned.
050 A deck of cards. Boredom is a hazard nobody lists.
051 Oats.
052 Pasta.
053 Peanut butter.
054 Crackers.
055 Comfortable shoes by the door, laced loosely.
056 Canned tomatoes.
057 Canned fruit.
058 Canned vegetables.
059 Canned soup.
060 A whistle. It's louder than you and it doesn't get tired.
061 Tinned fish.
062 Honey. It does not go off. It is the only thing that doesn't.
063 Tea.
064 Cocoa.
065 Oil.
066 Duct tape. Not for what you think. For what you haven't thought of.
067 Vinegar.
068 Spices. Blandness is a morale hazard.
069 A cutting board.
070 Soap. Being clean is morale.
071 A good knife and a dull one.
072 A pot with a lid.
073 A pan.
074 Bowls, unbreakable.
075 Spoons.
076 A ladle.
077 A photograph you would want with you. Put it in the envelope (item 30).
078 A thermos (see 123).
079 Water purification tablets, or know how to boil.
080 Shelf-stable food. I defer entirely to Teo on this. See the Supplies page. I mean it.
081 A kettle that works on a stove, not a plug.
082 A camping stove, used outdoors only. (Only. I will not repeat this. I will repeat this.)
083 Fuel for it, stored where fuel goes.
084 A fire extinguisher. Check the gauge. Go now.
085 Smoke detector batteries (see 8, 9).
086 A carbon monoxide detector.
087 A spare phone charger.
088 A spare pair of glasses, if you wear them. Old prescription is better than none.
089 A battery pack, charged.
090 Learn to make one meal that needs no power. Practice it on a normal evening.
091 A list of accounts and who to call about them.
092 A copy of your ID.
093 Insurance papers.
094 Emergency contacts, printed.
095 A pen that writes on anything.
096 Chalk.
097 A clock, wound.
098 A clock, battery.
099 A list of what's in the basement, taped to the basement door. The list is also a supply.
100 Stop. Halfway. Make tea. The list will keep.
101 Check the batteries in item 5. You bought them a while ago.
102 A clock, sun. (Draw one. Learn it. It's never wrong, it's just unavailable at night.)
103 A calendar, paper.
104 Sunscreen.
105 Insect repellent.
106 A hat.
107 A warm layer you can sleep in.
108 Socks, more.
109 Underwear, more.
110 A rain layer.
111 A book you've already read, so it still works when you can't concentrate.
112 Boots.
113 Slippers. Nobody lists slippers. Cold floors are a hazard.
114 A towel.
115 A second towel.
116 A sleeping bag or the equivalent.
117 A pillow. (Morale.)
118 Earplugs.
119 An eye mask.
120 Know which of your neighbors would need help first. Decide now that you'll go.
121 A tent, if you have one; a plan, if you don't.
122 A folding chair. (Teo keeps one for whoever. I keep one for the same reason.)
123 A thermos. (Provisions were supplied for the Atlas's survey of this list; the thermos was returned.)
124 A small table.
125 Games that need no power.
126 Puzzles.
127 A ball. Any ball. (The milk page owns one. I am not going to describe it either.)
128 A harmonica or similar. Optional. Controversial.
129 String.
130 Spare fuses, or know your breaker panel by touch.
131 Safety pins.
132 A sewing kit.
133 Scissors.
134 A magnifying glass.
135 A mirror, small.
136 A compass. (The Atlas lent me one. It wobbles.)
137 Maps of the region.
138 A whistle for each person (see 60).
139 Glow sticks.
140 A bucket. It is always a bucket.
141 Reflective tape.
142 A bell.
143 A signal mirror (see mirror).
144 The previous dates, written down, so you remember it has been fine before.
145 A whiteboard and marker for the door: WE ARE FINE / WE ARE AT ___.
146 Spare shoelaces.
147 A tire repair kit, if you have tires.
148 Jumper cables.
149 A siphon. Know how, before.
150 A map of your own town on paper. Phones are confident right up until they aren't.
151 Antifreeze, if applicable.
152 An ice scraper.
153 Sand or grit.
154 A shovel.
155 A rake. Nobody needs a rake. Have one.
156 A ladder.
157 Light bulbs.
158 Extension cord.
159 A surge protector.
160 A spare key, with someone you trust, who has yours.
161 A generator, only with the manual, only outdoors.
162 Hearing protection.
163 Eye protection.
164 A dust mask.
165 A bandana.
166 A sun hat (see hat).
167 A spare belt.
168 Cord.
169 Clothespins.
170 Pet food, if applicable. Pets do not accept the explanation.
171 A laundry basin.
172 A washboard. Yes.
173 Laundry soap.
174 A clothes line (see cord).
175 A small sewing awl.
176 Buttons.
177 Something sweet. Small. For after.
178 A spare pair of socks in every bag.
179 A bag for every person.
180 Check on the one who lives alone.
181 A bag for the documents.
182 A bag for the pet.
183 A bag for the bags. (This is item 1 of a second list I will not publish.)
184 A second pair of glasses (see 88). I say it twice because it matters twice.
185 Lip balm.
186 Lotion. Dry hands crack. Cracked hands are a hazard.
187 Nail clippers.
188 A comb.
189 A toothbrush, spare.
190 Rope. You will not use it for anything dramatic. You will use it to tie a tarp.
191 Toothpaste.
192 Floss.
193 Vitamins, if you take them.
194 Electrolyte packets.
195 A journal (see 20). Write the date. Write what's fine.
196 Envelopes.
197 Stamps. The post survives more than you expect.
198 A second notebook for the neighbor who didn't bring one.
199 Join the Ring of Everything. (Done. The cartographer added me. I said I'd rather she asked. She had.)
200 Rest. Rest is a supply. It runs out quietly.
201 Bungee cords.
202 A tow strap.
203 Reflective vest.
204 A hard hat, if you have reason.
205 A second can opener, because item 14 will be somewhere else when you need it.
206 Knee pads.
207 A kneeling pad.
208 A small stool.
209 A spare set of keys to the shed.
210 Write the date on everything you store. The future you is a stranger who can't read your mind.
211 Keep the basement door unlocked from the inside. Always. This one is not funny.
212 Check on the neighbors. Then begin again at item 1. That's the whole method.

NOTICE

This is a fictional page on Nuxtre and the Big Reset is not a real event. The list is just good housekeeping with a story around it. In a real emergency, call the real number where you live, not me. I would be home anyway. I'm always home.

← back to the clock