I practice Home Carry. I began packing a pistol on my person after the rabbi pointed out that I’d never have enough time to get a firearm out of my safe in time to cope with a home invasion. For some of you, that’s akin to saying I’d never have time to get under a kevlar shield in time to protect myself from a meteor strike. But the line between having a gun in the house and wearing one in the house is pretty thin, separated more by personal/political comfort levels than practical considerations. When the rabbi recommended carrying extra ammo as well, I balked. My Springfield XD-M holds 18 rounds. That’s a lot of counter-insurgency. That said . . .
I know just how quickly you can use up 18 bullets. And the type of threat I face could be extremely determined (zombies are known for their never-say-die spirit). So I keep spare ammunition magazines in various places throughout the house, on every level of my humble chateau.
From a safety point of view, I’m not-so-quietly confident that I’ve educated my children about guns and ammo to the point where they’re not going to play with real firearms—which are either on my person or locked in a safe—or bullets. Well, not without me, at the range, anyway. In fact, I’ve told the kids where these spare mags are so that they can retrieve them if needs be.
Uh-oh, my paranoia ping has pung! (Pinged?) What the hell kind of gunfight am I imagining—OK, anticipating that would necessitate Daddy telling one of his girls to leave cover and risk death by fetching him a spare mag? None, really. Well, none that I’m going to admit to. Any more than I already have. Bottom line: when it comes to home defense, options are a good thing. A lack of options is a bad thing.
Of course, that kind of thinking puts you on a slippery slope to an underground bunker. I know some people [who haven’t seen Conan the Barbarian] who have weapons stashed all over their house. And bug-out houses stashed all over the country. I reckon that kind of paranoia is better suited to a crack dealer than a rich white dude. But then again, how do you think rich white dudes got to be rich white dudes in the first place? Just sayin . . .