It’s proved a long wait.

I woke from a nap earlier to my landlord knocking on the door. Charley turned into a Level 4, she told me, and it turned slightly left after hitting the coast. That course would have it hitting Ocala.

Carmen, my cat, fell for the lure of an opened tuna can, and I squeezed her into a carrier. I live on the second floor, and my downstairs neighbor happened to move out today, so I talked to the landlord about boarding the cat downstairs. At least she won’t be on a second floor, and has a room without windows in which to hide in.

Rains and high winds have hit here, but Charley’s course had changed again by the time I got to work. It had veered right, and in the interrim has kept a trajectory toward the Orlando/Kissimmee area.

That, and when I finally got to work, our trajectory had changed. Managers decided not to do a second edition. The crew won’t be here until 4 a.m. afterall. We do, however, have a 1:30 a.m. press start for our only edition, so it’ll still turn into a later-than-usual night.

I’m settled in for the slog, flanked by boarded up windows and journalists fed off emergency sandwich platters.

At 2 p.m., NOAA issued notice that Charley jumped up to a Level 4, with 145 mph sustained winds.

At the time, it was 60 miles off Ft. Myers, moving at 20 mph. It also dipped south a bit, and is now expected to hit around Port Charlotte. That means it should hit land in about 90 minutes.

Here in Ocala, it’s still and overcast.

I’m getting ready for work.

But not close enough for us to be news. That’s the hopeful axiom that I gathered from the office last night.

People offer a mixed message: either Charley won’t be a big deal, or we’ll get 90-plus mph winds and four inches of rain.

I walked downtown to see if people were boarding up, and to snap a few shots. No one was nailing plywood to windows, but several businesses had criss-crosses of tape. I went to Target earlier, and red-shirted employees were fixing boards to the doors.

Mobs clogged Publix, the local supermarket chain, earlier, with carts full of water and batteries. The parking lot was mad with anxious drivers.

The office called to postpone my shift, from a 2 p.m. start to a 6 p.m. start. The Star-Banner plans two editions: an early one, and a late one with a 4 a.m. press start. I work the latter, which will wrap another eight pages of aftermath around the former.

I’ll be at work through the entire storm. I have my worst-case-scenario bag, packed with water, food, a flashlight and other essentials, ready to go.

And now, a nap.

I joked when I moved to Florida that I wanted to see alligators in the wild, and I wanted to experience a hurricane evacuation. I’ve seen gators; it didn’t take long. Ma Nature, though, made me wait until my second hurricane season.

Forecasters predict Charley will first pummel the west coast of the state not too far north of Tampa Bay – dashing itself across the area from Clearwater to Spring Hill. The storm is expected to strengthen as it arcs between Cuba and the U.S., and likely attain Level 3 on the Saffir-Simspon Scale as it hits land.

That’s a “major” hurricane. For the folks counting at home, those are 120 mph sustained winds.

I’m piqued.

I’m getting up early to batten hatches: unplug appliances, dismantle computer, wrangle cat, etc. I have a flashlight, a Leatherman, three bottles of water and a rain suit.

But wait, you say, Ocala sits more than an hour from the coast. Well, tonight forecasters said they expect Charley to maintain hurricane status as he pulls himself across the peninsula. Even if he drops to Level 2 as he passes Ocala, trees will whip in 100 mph winds.

This county isn’t getting evacuated (maybe next time…), but you can bet our hotels are full of people from the coast.

Um, did I mention I’ll be at work, trying to put a newspaper out? Oh, and windows bank the copy desk on the second floor.

Stay tuned for updates. Gently now, Charley.