When you throw hailstones that are the size and shape of angry testicles at the roof of the Domed Reading Room in the State Library, it sounds not like rain, or hail, it sounds like coconuts. Lots of coconuts. Lots of coconuts over many minutes, which is quite deafening in a big cavernous space. And dark. And then the fire alarm went off. And the lights went out. And we GTFO.
Into "this thunderstorm is very dangerous", no less.
Flinders Street is flooded. AGAIN. And the roof at Spencer Street Station, being a lovely and striking design which is not actually designed to cope with weather, let alone extreme weather, broke, and when I went through there were snow drifts on the platforms. Rail signals are down on a heap of lines. Trams are stuck several feet of water. As far as I know, my sweetnesses are still out there, trapped by floods. If there are any white knights who can pilot helicopters reading this, go get rescuing.
I had a really hard time motivating myself to get out of bed this morning. I had an even harder time convincing myself to put pants on and step out the front door. Now I know why. I shall never confuse apathy and premonition again.
ETA: Elizabeth Street flooded in a I GOT PLACES TO GOOOOO sort of way.
Twice the CBD of Melbourne has been hit by flash flooding since I got back from South America. Melbourne, honey, what are you doing?