I had a seller last month who decided three hours before their first showing that they wanted to repaint the entire main floor. Not touch up — repaint. In a "bold" terracotta color they'd seen on Pinterest. I talked them off that ledge, but then they spent the next two weeks convinced every single piece of feedback meant something catastrophic. "They said the kitchen felt cozy — do they think it's too small? Should we knock out a wall?" No. They were being polite. Your kitchen is fine. The absolute peak was when we got a solid offer, five percent under asking, and they called me sobbing at 11 PM because accepting anything less than full price meant they were "failing as homeowners." These people bought the house in 2019. They've gained $180,000 in equity. I spent forty-five minutes on the phone explaining that they were, in fact, winning at real estate while they catastrophized about whether the buyers would "respect the house's energy." We closed last week. They cried at the signing. Happy tears, supposedly. I need a vacation.