In the next five decades, the seas could rise two to three feet, said Jennifer Jurado, Broward County’s chief resiliency officer.

Already, life on Mola Avenue has changed considerably, depending on the moon cycle, the month, the wind and the rain. Residents are already gearing up for the next king tide. It arrives next month.

Adapting to the “new normal,” as some call it, is a requirement now. Sherry Harris kicks off her heels and splashes to her car to go to work. The Lafrattas, both originally from Brazil, pore over tidal charts for the first time in their lives. “No wake” signs warn cars to slow to a crawl so the brackish water does not inundate lawns. Residents know to park on high ground. Garbage cans are kept safely away from the curb, or they wind up bobbing up and down the road like wayward buoys.

“I forgot them one time,” Mr. Lafratta said, “and there was garbage everywhere.”

People who live here have complained to city officials for years but said they might wind up having to pay for some of the fixes themselves (one proposal asks for $20,000 from each resident). Already, many have to elevate their sea walls because they sit on private property. Raising the roads may also cost them. All of these options inevitably give rise to should-we-or-shouldn’t-we squabbles. And even as new multimillion-dollar mansions rise from the saturated ground, those who live on Mola fret about property values.

“Flood?” said Michael Asser, poking fun at the situation after he opened his front door to a waterlogged reporter. “What flood? The city says there is no flood.”

“It’s been going on 25 years, but each year it’s worse,” he added. “When I first came here, during spring tides, you had a splash here, a splash there.”