It had been pissing down all weekend, but While my girlfriend was scrolling the local community Facebook page, warning me of the impending danger, I offered hollow reassurances. “We’ll be right. The water won’t come up overnight. We’ll check again in the morning.” But I was wrong. It was just after 2am when she woke me and told me our back studio was about to go under water. We frantically moved furniture into the main house, which is three steps higher than the studio. I spent the next few hours stashing valuables in high cupboards, packing supplies for our eight-month-old son and maniacally refreshing the BOM radar. By 10am the next day, the water was lapping at the back door. The SES rocked up and said we should leave within the next 20 minutes. I carried our son out of bed, put him into his car seat, and we drove off, hoping all our shit didn’t get destroyed.
