The real question is not--Should we be hunkering down?--but rather, What does hunkering down mean to us? I like to think that any disaster (personal or global) can be navigated the way M.F.K. Fisher would have dealt with it. Which is to say, grimly but beautifully.
What I have purchased: A bar of Newman's dark chocolate, a can of dal (the same kind sold at the Karrot), two small bottles of water, a larger bottle of wine, organic cotton tampons, banana chips--I agonized over a jar of artichoke hearts and ultimately decided against them not because they were unnecessary, but because I don't have any good bread to eat with them. The man at the liquor store let me charge the wine even though there's usually a minimum limit for credit cards. Everyone is feeling unusual.
I also filled two pitchers with tap water, got some bubble-wrap to stuff below my window where it doesn't-quite-close, boiled six eggs--and called again upon Mary Frances Kennedy for guidance (this time at the stove, where she's probably more comfortable being consulted): Bring eggs and water all to a boil at once, then immediately remove from heat and let the eggs cool completely in the water. Let everything rise and fall together, as everything will do outside whether we are prepared or frightened or arrogant or not. Better to be arrogant then, but cook the eggs anyhow. Hunter S. Thompson said, "Call on God, but row away from the rocks."