The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the mention of a twelve-minute appraisal, a duration Reginald would not accept for a microwave burrito let alone a half-million dollar asset. You sat in your car and COUNTED THE MINUTES, which tells this Court everything it needs to know about your mental state and also your data plan situation. The appraiser cited a foreclosure with a CAVED-IN GARAGE as a comparable property, which is like comparing a golden retriever to a raccoon that died under a porch simply because both technically occupied residential land. And "dated kitchen" for a 2019 renovation? I once ruled against a man for calling shaker cabinets "tired" and I would do it AGAIN. However, and The Court says this with the gravity of a thousand gavels, you are not innocent here because you BELIEVED your own pricing and belief is not a defense, it is a HOBBY. You are hoarding receipts in a dead deal file like a squirrel preparing for a winter that will never come, and that is not professionalism, that is a coping mechanism. The Court sentences you to one hour of staring at that file before deleting it forever, and also I must leave now because Order the Roomba has breached the chambers again.