The wind is still gusting mightily, so I haven’t taken down the duct and masking tape covering our windows inside and out, or removed the one-and-a-half tons of home-made sandbags stacked up against our back door, as a barrier both to flood waters and looters, but “Big Talk Irene,” as The Boss now calls the hurricane that wasn’t, has passed.
One nearby, lower-lying street got flooded, and another nearby street saw some trees destroyed, but our street appears to have emerged unscathed. The ocean did come about ten feet onto our street, but as an old-timer assured me would be the case Friday night, having one of the highest-lying streets in the area protected us.
Still, we took nothing for granted, excepting for the general unreliability of the City of New York and the media. We took all manner of precautions, and were in a position to quickly take to higher ground, if necessary.
The short version, as to why we rode out Irene at home: