The next day, I sat there in the pre-dawn light, waiting for the power to come back on, looking at the streaks of mud and dust on the car. My precious new mags have survived a flash flood, sharp-edged potholes, dead cats and stray logs, only to succumb to early morning dog pee (don’t worry, it’ll wash off). With all the gravel, silt, mud, broken glass and sharp pebbles now on my week-old tires, I suppose their life span has been cut in half., but that’s okay. I had promised to myself that I would never let another car of mine drown, and I did that. But with all the other things that have happened in the past twenty four hours, that’s small consolation.

Our baby slept very soundly. She’d had an exciting day, and while the rest of us were dragging ourselves through it like zombies, she was all smiles. A real trooper. I wish I could say the same for me. We’re going hunting for a condominium or an apartment now, as we have a lot of work to do before we can move back in, or, hopefully, back up to the third floor loft.

But I'm considering buying another AUV and leaving the car in Quezon City. Buying new furniture hurts, yes, but buying a new car every time it floods is more painful than open-heart surgery.