Manana is good enough for me.

Manana
By lazy (cold) Emmet

The Cobb Manor theme song has always been, appropriately, “Manana.”
You remember that old procrastination tune which states “Tomorrow is good enough for me.”
That snowy hurricane which blew through the state this week clearly illustrated the fallacy of that indolent philosophy. True, I did finally clear the deck of my wonderful (Telescope) lawn furniture. Otherwise, they would have been flying missiles and would have landed somewhere in South Thomaston.
Manana.
But that three-cord wood pile in the driveway is now under a foot of snow. Yes, I knew I should have lugged it into the barn weeks ago (“I told you so,” said the efficient Blue Eyes). I was waiting for a volunteer wood-moving party from my army of friends, or maybe the Red Cross. Usually I have a roommate who is so embarrassed by my lethargy that they volunteer for the task, while I watch the latest news from Stalingrad. In the spirit of full disclosure, “Bone Idle” David Grima volunteered to assist any effort at the woodpile. Honest. The only thing I can say in my pitiful search for dignity is that I did cover the $700 pile with tarps. Two of them. I would guess that both tarps covered about half of the pile. They looked like Band-Aids on an injured elephant.
Needless to say, the kayak and canoe rest under that same foot of snow.
In the height of the storm with 50 M.P.H. winds, I was out there, lifting the tarp for some dry wood. Naturally I was still wearing shorts with my L. L. Bean boots. Chief Al who was marooned at Cobb Manor when his $200,000 condo lost power (It is still out) was out there with me, laughing at the sight. “We look like are picking wood in Stalingrad. See if there is a frozen horse under that tarp,” he yelled over the howling wind. I must admit that I love that hiss when the snow-covered wood hits the flames.
Manana, baby.
Cobb Manor was a shelter for the storm to both Chief Al and the fabulous Blue Eyes (who started cleaning as soon as she took her coat off). Rockland and Rockport were almost levelled by the ferocious storm. Blue Eyes not only lost power, but half the tree on her front lawn, which took the power and phone lines down with it. She will be the last house in Rockland to get the power restored. Crews will have to deal with that live wire to restore power.
I was feeling pretty good about myself and Cobb Manor with heat, lights and television to share with my friends. On Sunday, I fed the wood stove with that hissing wood, awaiting the Patriots 4 p.m. showdown with the hated Denver Broncos and their blowhard quarterback Peyton Manning (I hate all hillbilly Mannings, even their mother). I was watching some other game, with my supplies by my side, both solid and liquid. At 3:45 p.m. the (expletive deleted) television service went out with a little click. In Camden, we might get a few flickers of the electric power, but we never lose power or television for more than a few seconds. Hey! It’s Camden! God knows better.
I sat there like an idiot (nothing new there) and awaiting the return of the Patriots game. After a few plays, it dawned on me that television was not coming back. Luckily, I have 2 (two) emergency radios. Both have flashlights, naturally. I have a large collection of pretend-camping gear at the ready. I even have an astounding collection of batteries. I don’t particularly like camping, but I love the “stuff.” Like the 1940’s, I sat at my dining room table and listened the to the Patriots game ON THE RADIO!
Chief Al, who doesn’t know if a football is inflated or stuffed, chatted through the whole game and got louder as the game grew crucial. I thought about throwing him into the snow. But I let him live because he had the four-wheel drive vehicle that recued Blue Eyes from her devastated home.
Apparently, I was not alone, I have heard the story repeatedly of Patriots fans sitting in their running automobile, drinking adult beverages and listening to the game on their radio. The television remained off on Monday, eliminating the traditional celebration of Patriots highlights. Damn!
Enough is enough. When the storm finally left for Canada and Reny’s reopened, I bought a snow shovel.
Blue Eyes used it to clear the barn entrance and the front stairs.
Manana.