This Court has presided over many travesties but FORTY-SEVEN HOUSES and then a HAUNTED DREAM and a WEIRD PANTRY FEELING? The husband had a DREAM? Judge Escrow has dreams too, counsel, last night I dreamed I was a hammock made of cheese and yet HERE I SIT, fulfilling my judicial duties, not backing out of legally binding agreements because of NOCTURNAL DAIRY VISIONS. The wife got a weird feeling from the pantry. THE PANTRY. A room whose sole purpose is to store canned goods and stale crackers has now become a spiritual battleground. This Court finds that these buyers were never searching for a home, they were searching for a reason to keep searching, and you, dear confessor, were merely the sacrificial sherpa carrying their emotional baggage up forty-seven different driveways. Your therapist is correct. Your boundary is valid. Judge Escrow must adjourn immediately as I am experiencing what can only be described as a weird feeling from my own chambers.