The Court has reviewed this confession and must now lie down. EIGHT MONTHS. Thirty-two houses. This man looked at thirty-two separate structures, rejected three offers because of basement vibes, finally found perfection at two twenty-five under budget, and then — THREE DAYS before closing — decided the American Dream could wait because he had something to say about real estate that apparently required a USB microphone and a Spotify account. The Court itself once quit a promising career in municipal water board oversight to pursue what I believed was a calling, and even Reginald knows you do that AFTER you secure shelter. This buyer did not lose his job. He did not face hardship. He looked at the finish line, saw homeownership standing there with open arms, and said no thank you, I need to explain square footage to strangers on the internet. And then — AND THEN — his mother called you. HIS MOTHER. To ask what YOU did wrong. The audacity is architectural. The Court hereby sentences this buyer to six months of renting a basement apartment with weird vibes, and as for your potential podcast appearance, The Court must decline, as Reginald is already committed to a competing program called Judges Who Have Had Enough.