Friendly message if you live in a perpetual CONE OF UNCERTAINTY. One, I am sorry and right there with you looking at real estate prices in landlocked states and considering a pastoral life in which I grow corn and, I guess, develop an all-encompassing fear of tornadoes. Related: Where do they not have natural disasters?

Two, and more practically, it's beyond time to get ready for hurricanes if you live in their potential path like I do. Experts say the Atlantic Ocean is "anomalously warm," a fact that fills me with an abiding dread! These same academic harbingers of doom are calling for an above-average hurricane season, when earlier, they weren't sure. That could look like 18 named storms, nine becoming hurricanes and four with winds of at least 111 miles per hour. Is that a lot, you're asking? That's five more named storms, two more major ones, than experts initially predicted.

IT'S FINE I'M FINE WE'RE FINE.

Now, look, if you've been around this column for a bit, you know we cope with difficult things through a combination of humor and snacking, so that's how we're going to confront this. Admittedly, it's challenging to find whimsical perspective about living in the shadow of storms after the destruction and trauma of Hurricane Ian, but if there's one thing humans have a remarkable ability to do, it's come together and be awkward.

So, uh, let's talk snacks. As you know, a well-stocked hurricane kit needs more than munchies, and if you're not sure what that means, please review. You should have at least seven days' worth of food, but probably more. Tampa Bay Times reporter Zack Sampson, who has covered hurricanes on the front lines, says it's important to mix up flavors in your kit so that if you don't have access to groceries, you're not eating only meat sticks for days on end.

Speaking of meat sticks, let's rank five nonperishables based on their flavor profiles, staying power and ability to soothe our tropical depression.

No. 5: Chef Boyardee products

This is what I ate when the power went out during Ian. Mini raviolis hold nostalgic value because they were my favorite food as a child. I would, at times, eat them cold out of the can because I was a disgusting monster. At my current stage, they do not taste as good tepid and tinged with metal. However, they are still comforting. For hurricanes, you must get the ones with the plastic lid and the metal peel-top so you're not trying to bang a can against the drywall when you realize there is no can opener for miles.

No. 4: Meat sticks

As promised, let's talk meat sticks (the title of my forthcoming memoir). I love a good meat stick. Salty, chewy, protein-packed, carries a certain cowboy air of mystery. Imagine staring out at the passing gusts, gnawing a leathery piece of dehydrated bovine and muttering, "Looks like a westerly wind, alright," with absolutely no idea what you're talking about. The evil seductions of grocery BOGO lured me to Mighty Spark chicken snack sticks. Has to be the honey and jalapeno variety; I don't make the rules.

No. 3: Fruit snacks

Zack recommends fruit snacks as a hurricane staple for the sugar burst and flavor mix they provide the palate. I never think about buying fruit snacks in daily life because I am 40 (see: Chef Boyardee). However, should anyone ever approach me with a free bag of fruit snacks? Man, I'm snatching them like a cheekbone. Delicious! I advise tropical fruit flavors for theme, avoiding grape at all costs.

No. 2: Chips

You are wondering, what KIND of chips? Great question, and the answer is all of them. In a crisis situation, the flavor of chips matters less than their constant availability for stress eating. Something about the reach-crunch-reach-crunch-reach-crunch maneuver is deeply therapeutic, and if you don't believe me, you have not been in a crisis yet. Eating chips as a meditative practice is both delicious and self-soothing. Also: barbecue Lays and PopCorners.

No. 1: Peanut butter

I could survive with peanut butter and a spoon for a long time. It would get pretty THICK out here, but I would still find joy like George Costanza before me. In normal times, there's nothing wrong with a $12 jar of fancy little Justin's or whatever, except for the fact that it's $12. But in this setting, we are procuring the largest possible jar of Jif or Peter Pan creamy, OK? We want added sugars, and for God's sake, full fat. Wait until they're BOGO and get two. These jars have the additional psychological bonus of being the approximate weight of a baby. You can carry your well-behaved peanut butter son in the crook of your arm as a way to occupy your brain. Why, yes, these are the kinds of unhinged survival skills one only develops after dozens of summers in Florida. Thank you for asking.

Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephhayes on Twitter or @stephrhayes on Instagram.

Photo credit: Annie Spratt at Unsplash