My House, in the middle of our street, and on the corner, too

I feel that perhaps Gentle Readers are waiting for me to chime in on the current political controversy of whether John McCain and his wife own four homes, as their spokesman claims, seven, as the television ad states, or twelve, which is the number I just made up out of my own head. I like it, though. Twelve homes.

Can I say, though, that if I were stinkin’ rich (and I’m not), I cannot see wanting to own more than three places? I’m talking Cindy McCain rich, by the way, not just rich-beyond-the-dreams-of-avarice but nice-country-I-think-I’ll-buy-it rich. Richer than Willard “Mitt” Romney. You know how there’s rich like the movie stars or athletes who make ten or twenty million for a few months’ work? And then there’s rich like the people who can buy a movie studio or a ball club? I’m talking about that kind of rich.

Anyway, here’s what I would think: I would want to own a place in whichever city was my primary residence. Then I would want to own a vacation home, a lake house or beach house or cabin in the woods, whatever. And I could imagine owning an apartment in another big city, that is, I can easily imagine wanting to own a flat in London, because four or five times a year I would spend a week or two seeing theater and buying unbelievably wonderful suits. But owning a home is a pain in the ass, and although I get that the benefits outweigh the disadvantages for your primary residence, and even for a vacation home that you can set up just the way you like it, once you get past that, why not stay in a hotel?

I mean, here’s the thing. The McCains have a condo in the DC area, of course, and a primary residence in the Phoenix area, which also makes sense. Then he’s got the Sedona complex. Again, they are stinking rich, so fine, they wants to spend their leisure time on a big Sedona complex with buildings they built to their exact specifications, hey, it’s nice to be rich.

Now, like a lot of Arizonans, they vacation in the San Diego area. I did that, growing up. And if I were stinking rich, there is much that would appeal to me about staying at the Hotel Del Coronado. You know, if you’re that rich, you can afford a suite. You can afford two suites. You can tell the hotel you want a whole damned floor held for you every July and August, and they will do it. They will cook your meals and bring them to you, and if you don’t like their cook, there is a good chance they will fire that cook and hire a new one that you do like. Or at least let you bring your own cook and let him cook for you in their kitchen.

The McCains, however, rather than staying at the Del (or any other luxury hotel in the area), bought a condo on Coronado. Well, two condos, because sometimes their kids come, too. Oh, and another condo in La Jolla. Huh? No, wait, that’s Ms. McCain’s father’s old condo, that hardly counts at all.

I guess some people don’t like staying in luxury hotels. People are different, one to another, I suppose, which is what makes the world interesting and fun.

Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.