Not drowning, but waving

I have been submerged recently in a torrid, sweltering overflow of work. I knew that my defensive lines had the potential to be breached, given that I had founded my job description not on rock but on marshland. Yet despite the perilous forecasts I fail to anticipate the predicatment that this sudden maelstrom of activity could plunge me into.
So I ended up stranded in Bloomsbury with no means to escape. I should have left before, when I had the chance. But now I watch the tide of work wash up all around me as I wait for someone to draw off all my other duties amid the chaos.
I must admit, however, that I don't want to be rescued from this. Amid the chaos that exists here, it has nevertheless become my home. I don't want to be pulled out at this stage to be dumped in I don't know what sort of environment just because someone else assumes the atmosphere here may be contagious. I stuck out the initial turmoil and I'm determined to see through the rest, despite the rankness and boredom punctuated by militant youths trying to take me for everything I've got.
Those of us working in this area have become used to the occasional storm of activity. They're pretty much seasonal we should be able to cover for them. This one was quite a bit bigger than I could have imagined, but I'm here in my ramshackle dwelling and I'm sure the work will drain away before too long.