I spent six hours staging my seller's home for photos. Six hours of moving furniture, hiding family portraits, decluttering every surface. The place looked like a Pottery Barn catalog. Photographer came, did his thing, photos turned out gorgeous. Listed on Thursday. By Saturday morning, my seller calls me sobbing. Full meltdown. Says she looked at the photos and realized she "doesn't recognize her own home anymore" and now she's having second thoughts about selling because "maybe the universe is telling her something." I asked what the universe was specifically communicating. She said the throw pillows I'd arranged on her couch were facing the wrong direction and it felt like "bad energy." I drove over there, turned the throw pillows around, took a selfie with them as proof, and told her the energy was now flowing correctly toward the front door, which symbolized welcoming buyers. She listed her home. We got three offers by Monday. I have a master's degree. I took a philosophy course on existentialism in college. Nothing prepared me for negotiating with throw pillow energy. My therapy bill should be tax deductible as a business expense.