How many homes a man can deal with?

By JOHN VAN DOORN | Thursday, August 28, 2008 12:23 AM PDT ∞

If I were John McCain, which I am not, although we have a lot of decades in common, I'd forget how many homes I had, too, particularly if the number exceeded one.

One is the number I have now; believe me, it's all I can do to cope. To think of two or three ---- or McCain's seven ---- defies comprehension. How in the world does he do it? And why? One is plenty, particularly from the housework standpoint.

I am not even including social aspects of owning many homes, which must be enormous. My hat's off to whoever keeps the calendar for the McCains. Dinner here, lunch there, barbecue on the morrow, tea in California --- he has a couple of houses right around here, you know --- drinks in Arizona, canapes in Washington, crudites on the wing.

How is that possible?

In my own case, with just one, east of I-5, I manage somehow to keep up with the work. There's the dusting and the vacuuming, the sweeping and scrubbing. That's daily and those are just a fraction of the inside jobs.

I've got gardens, too. Plants everywhere. Trees. Tomatoes. Arbors. Birdbaths. I have been told that my garden is a wonder and belongs on the pages of a fancy magazine, which would ease my burdens, but it's work.

Do I do it alone? you ask. Not exactly. I have a gardener named Sylvia --- I just checked my records; she's my wife, too --- who is out there six or eight hours a day. She in turn has a gardener named Roberto who helps once every two weeks.

The two of them are more than adequate. But, if I may so so, I think it's my energy, my love of the earth, my fetish for accumulating dirt under my fingernails that drive the gardening enterprise.

So long as, inside, the showers are working and the air-conditioning is on and set for 68, you can spot me out there now and again, cheering them on and bringing them cold drinks and sandwiches.

I am, to put it another way, the foreman. Sure, sure, Sylvia is the creative one. She designed the gardens, which are as inviting as a sunset. She plants and weeds. She builds walkways, lays gravel paths, establishes seating areas and color and drama and whimsy. She waters all the time.

She's the workaday functionary, is how I like to put it. Believe me, on Monday, which is Labor Day, she will get full honors in my house; I am thinking of taking her to breakfast so long as we get back for her to tend to some bushes in the front that are looking a bit ragged.

My principal self-assignment, apart from foremanic duties, is to carry materials to Sylvia, as I am the man of the house.

Frankly, I get exhausted.

Still and all, I have experience with more than one house in the family. Once long ago I had a weekend home in Upstate New York, 90 miles from my New York City home, in the foothills of the Shawgunk range.

It was a log cabin (three bedrooms, two baths, country kitchen, on five acres) that turned out to be a factory, such was the degree of imposed industry.

In the summer I had, in addition to full responsibility for indoor chores, the five acres to consider, which consisted of three acres of woods and two of wild grasses.

In the winter, snows so deep a cabin could have gotten lost. Ours never did, to my considerable but secret disappointment.

While I managed this second home with ease, as you may gather, the workload gave me insights into the ownership game that are priceless.

Chief among the insights: One is plenty, two is daft. More is certifiable.

If John McCain makes it to the presidency, my advice will be: sell six of the seven, if you can recall where they are. You'll still have two, counting the White House. That's more than enough. The presidency, if you get there, will take up a lot of time, and you won't be able to focus clearly on menus or sump pumps.

Contact columnist John Van Doorn at (760)739-6647 or jvandoorn@nctimes.com.

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