At the age of 36, I came to my senses and left the long, bitter-cold Michigan winters behind for the milder seasons of North Carolina.
Some Northern transplants make fun of Southerners who buy up all the milk and bread whenever there is a threat of bad weather.
Not me. I like our cultural differences. How boring would the world be if we all acted the same, or spoke the same, or looked the same? BORING!
Plus they get rid of all of the old bread and milk, and I get the fresh stuff two days later.