People in the city don't care about drought.
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In fact, the majority are entirely unaware.
The supermarket giants still serve up reasonably priced produce. At 8am it's a scorching 35 degrees and by lunch time the heavens have opened up.
People take umbrellas out fully expecting to use them.
It was on a recent trip to Melbourne with a cosmopolitan in one hand, a chai latte in the other and a serve of incredibly over-priced toast with a fleck of avocado sat in front of me that it dawned on me.
These people really have no idea what's going on in regional Australia.
"Of course we know there's a drought," a friend told me.
"Like I've heard of it, but it's more like one of those overarching concepts you don't really think about, you know, like death, or abstinence."
He sipped his $22 Aperol spritz.
I tirelessly began my tirade: generations-old herds culled in half, Level 6 water restrictions, limited access to the Farm Household Allowance, a concert featuring John Farnham.
"I can't believe it's that bad, I really had no idea," he said. He got it.
But this was just one man, and I couldn't afford more expensive drinks and the promise of a hangover to explain it to everyone. So who's job is it anyway?
Not a rock band, or a superhero collective - the Joint Agency Drought Taskforce banded together last year.
In the last month the coordinator-general for drought major-general Stephen Day has visited numerous farms and community outreach events.
He's spoken with struggling farmers, with the charities that work tirelessly to keep the asset rich and cash poor with enough food to feed their families - let alone their cattle.
A listening ear can only go so far.
I imagine the message from farmers quickly becomes repetitive, perhaps it's time to spread it among the city folk who I'm sure would love to show their support for the hardship in their own backyard.
If only they knew.
