Real estate & mocha

My friend Krum -- a great guy with whom I went to school but didn't know until we were planning the 20th reunion -- is selling his house and building a new house in a better neighborhood. His children are young and have not begun public school yet. So he's all about the "better" neighborhoods.

Now, Krum is not like me. In fact, we are almost complete opposites on the Myers-Briggs Personality Type scale. I'm an INFP (I'll wait while you guffaw at my lameness) and he's an ENTJ. And, oh, he's the perfect example of an ENTJ. Krum and I don't speak the same language, and we definitely do not *write* the same language. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time emailing replies to him that said, paraphrased a hundred ways, "No, when I said [the sky is blue], I wasn't talking about [the weather]."

But he's a good guy -- responsible and hardworking and loyal and all that. I also always really liked the way he talked about his wife and children. He just adores them, in a completely unpoetic and totally goofy way.

So it's not a surprise that he's going to sell his house and move to a "better" neighborhood.

Here's the surprising part: He's hiring the same builder to build the same house in the new neighborhood.

Uh, excuse me -- whuh?

Why?

I can't imagine what kind of thought process concludes with "same house." What if, next New Year's Eve, he gets rip-roaring drunk and gives the cab driver his old address instead of his new address and he tries to stumble up the same old stairs without noticing that he's at the wrong house?

What's the point in building a new house if it's the old house? Why not just buy a lot in the nice neighborhood and *move* the *old* house over there? They can do that, y'know.

What if -- I'm just guessing -- what if -- what if his wife dies, and he's stuck living in the house that's an exact replica of the house he lived in with her, and he becomes totally despondent because everything reminds him of her? Are "better schools" going to be a comfort then? Huh???

I mean, I get so bored that I rearrange furniture all the time. I have absolutely no desire to *move* -- I would rather just move the antiques and set fire to the rest of the garbage I've got here -- but if I ever *do* move, you can bet your bippy that I'm not going to go hire someone to build the same house I'm already living in.

I get *so* bored that sometimes I make *mocha* instead of just having a great cup of coffee. I don't know if Krum drinks coffee -- he doesn't strike me as a caffeine addict, much less a connoisseur of African beans -- but if he *does* drink coffee, then I can't imagine he would ever add chocolate to it.

By the way, I was going to post a completely brilliant and thought-provoking essay last night, but the server was down and Blogger wouldn't let me blog. Hmph. Instead of thinking, now you'll just have to consider why I'm so judgmental and snarky that I'm picking on a perfectly nice guy who doesn't have an ounce of creativity in him.

And while you're doing that, I recommend you fix yourself a nice cup of mocha.