9:52AM. Greetings from the fourth floor! As we reach high tide, Chef Gaspar just rode by on his 1950’s bicycle wearing bright blue sneakers, white pants, a sensible european trench coat and an equally sensible hat. Others are out braving the gusts of 30 knots or so and a few cars are drifting through. Police patrol the piers. The swinging railroad bridge is about three feet from being under water. There’s talk of closing the Goldstar Bridge; that’s 95, the main thoroughfare between New York and Boston, possibly shut down. We told the staff to work from home as able. From our living room, Tom and I have a great view of sky, water and city, can see four American flags not quite horizontal showing winds from the east-northeast. I posit that when the next tide hits, we’ll be seeing the winds coming from the southeast, bringing the water up to past Irene levels. During that wee bit of a mighty storm just over a year ago, the seawall in front of our building held beautifully, even as water leapt in hungry claw-like ways over the bulkhead. OK. I know. That was kind of clumsy. I’ll try better next time. I haven’t heard that creak above the windows before. Tom says he heard it during Irene. Our friend patty has been to everyone’s door to make sure we’re all still staying. The high tide is just gently kissing the lip of the custom house pier. You might not want to sail a sunfish in this wind. No ferries running. Or elves for that matter. The building manager has told us in an email that the sliders should be ok up to 118mph. Shouldn’t be more than 80. Not too worried. Looking forward to a walk in a bit. I think we’ll be disappointed if the building does not become nearly fully surrounded by water at some point. Our cars are parked on a hill across the street. We have our mobile phones charged. The central command station for the city response is in the firehouse across the street and I can see four American flags flying. I hope everyone’s taking precautions to allow them to enjoy the beauty of this encounter.