I don't even notice it anymore. Two tins of baby formula. New occupants in the house. OK, so why are there two tins of baby formula in the cupboard? Why indeed. It's my hedge play. I've got several of those. IF the world degenerates further into tribal conflict, some of us thought ahead by twenty years or so. Flash. Supermarkets closed. World War 3 or 4. Some idiot is going to pay a hundred and fifty bucks for a tin of baby formula. In fact he will pay precisely every penny he has on earth. And I've got one. I've got two in fact. I used to think of myself as one of those survivalist nuts. That's not it at all. I've been busy buying low of anything which could command a king's ransom in the darkest of times. Long before I bought this music store I was a merchant. Perchance a gambler. I've got stuff stuck away for a rainy day. What kind of stuff? Stuff that you're gonna' be dragging over wheelbarrows of money for if I gambled correctly. If not, no big deal. I've got time.