As I sit writing this from the 16th floor of a friend's Bangkok condominium, I don't think I have ever been quite so grateful to be high and blissfully dry.
However, as the vast volume of water from Thailand's central plains threatens to envelope the capital, I find it hard to share the panicked trepidation of the city's residents.
The worst, you see, has already befallen me. I'm homeless, shoeless and feeling pretty hopeless. My new house is under more than two metres of water. I've been living on the kindness of friends. And as the soggy veteran of three evacuations in the space of the week, I might also look into being accorded some sort of recognition from the people at the Guinness World Records.
The first and worst ordeal was the long march out of my house in Nonthaburi's Sai Noi district, a sleepy backwater to the capital's north-west, where villages nestle amid verdant rice fields and somnolent klongs, or canals. When the northern run-off swelled against sluice gates, earthen dykes and hastily erected sandbag walls, those klongs began to run over high and fast.
Don't worry, the locals in my village had said. It has never flooded here before - a big selling point when we bought the place, having made the mistake of once living on a street that flooded every time it even looked like raining. They were still smiling when waters of the closest klong were mere centimetres from spilling over a dyke lining its banks.
But those smiles were gone the next morning, when we awoke to half a metre of water sloshing around our streets.