On September 26, water started entering the ground floor of my house in Bangkok. I switched off the electricity downstairs and stayed on the second floor while it kept rising.
Heavy rain is familiar here. During the rainy season, you get used to sudden downpours and flooded streets. Watching the water enter my own house was different. I kept hoping it would stop rising or begin to recede.
It eventually reached about 30 centimetres indoors. The refrigerator and washing machine were partially submerged, and the ground floor was unusable. I was upstairs, checking water levels and weather conditions, trying to work out whether I could stay.
The waiting was probably the worst part. I didn’t know how high the water would rise, whether the pumps would work, or when the streets would be accessible again. Even using the toilet was becoming a concern. I was still at home, but I couldn’t do the ordinary things that made it feel like home.
On September 27, I decided to leave. I walked through the flooded area and made my way to a hotel.
I remember the shower after I got there. It was the first moment when I could stop thinking about immediate safety and consider what came next.
After the water receded
Over the following days, the pumps were working again and the rain eased. The water gradually went down. I was relieved, but I still had to deal with the house.
I was concerned about contamination and moisture, as well as the damaged appliances and electrical safety. I wanted professional cleaning and disinfection, pest control, and checks on the electrical systems and appliances before returning.
What followed was a frustrating series of conversations with the landlord and agency about cleaning, access, responsibilities, and eventually ending the lease. People also entered the house without telling me in advance.
I won’t go into every discussion. Some of those matters are still unresolved, including the old rental deposit. But having to keep asking what was happening at the property added to the strain of being displaced.
At some point, I realised I didn’t want to go back. Even if the house could be cleaned and restored, I didn’t want to wonder whether the next heavy rain would bring another emergency.
So I started looking for a new place.
Moving sooner than planned
I’d already been considering moving before the end of the year. I hadn’t expected to find a house and organise everything in a matter of days.
There was a new deposit to arrange, boxes everywhere, furniture to transport, and appliances to replace. Moving was enough work on its own, but worrying about damaged belongings and the inspection at the old property kept pulling my attention back to things I couldn’t finish yet.
It also reminded me how much stuff I’d accumulated without really noticing. An emergency move gives you plenty of opportunities to reconsider whether you actually need everything you own.
Perhaps my interest in minimalism will finally translate into fewer possessions.
We’ll see.
By October 7
By October 7, I’d fully moved into the new house and returned the keys to the old one. I had a safe, comfortable place to live again.
That felt like a milestone. I could stop worrying about the old house every time the sky turned grey, even though the discussions about it weren’t over.
The move had cost more than I’d planned to spend. Temporary accommodation, deposits, replacement appliances, and moving expenses all came at once. Then there were the miscellaneous purchases that looked small individually and quickly added up.
I wanted to rebuild my financial reserves, but first I needed somewhere to live and the move completed. The outstanding deposit was still a loose end, not money I could count on having back.
Work during the move
The move overlapped with a nine-person client visit from October 5 to 8. The team and PMO helped with logistics, and the feedback was excellent. I was happy with the result, and proud of the people who helped make it work.
But there was very little opportunity to stop and process what had happened at home. The house and the visit both needed attention, regardless of how much energy I had left.
Finally stopping
Once the move was complete and the client visit was over, I was physically and mentally drained. While the emergency was happening, a constant list of problems to solve kept me moving. When the immediate pressure eased, the fatigue became impossible to ignore.
I’d arranged a five-day break. For once, I decided not to fill it with projects or learning plans. Photography, coding, and experimenting with AI could wait. I didn’t want the break to become another list of things I was supposed to accomplish.
I enjoyed the new house, organised my books, took care of a few small chores, and got a massage. There were days without a specific objective. After two weeks of practical problems demanding attention, doing very little felt right.
I’ve moved houses and lived in different countries before. I generally consider myself adaptable. This time, I was glad just to have somewhere comfortable to return to at the end of the day.
As I write this in mid-October, the new house is taking shape and my belongings are finding their places. I’m getting back to familiar routines, although I’m deliberately not rushing into everything at once.
There are still a few loose ends from the old house. I’d appreciate a few uneventful weeks.
