The Court has reviewed this testimony and must pause to collect itself because EIGHT HOURS, counsel, EIGHT HOURS you sat in that driveway while a child performed psychological warfare at ninety-second intervals and a dog converted your backseat into a biohazard zone. Reginald himself once waited eleven minutes for a title company to locate a fax machine and nearly called the National Guard, so the restraint shown here borders on the superhuman or perhaps the deeply unwell. The bank blames the title company, the title company blames the bank, and somewhere in the Arizona desert two sellers are blissfully unaware that their former driveway has become a hostage situation starring a golden retriever with gastrointestinal instability. You cite "allergies" as your defense for the emotional collapse and The Court must note that this is the same excuse Reginald used at his nephew's wedding when they served grocery store cake, so I recognize a fellow soldier. The mother's disappointment that the experience lacked excitement reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of real estate transactions, which are SUPPOSED to feel like filing taxes during a house fire. This Court finds you guilty not of causing the delay but of absorbing it into your body like some kind of trauma sponge while a six-year-old litigated your failures in real time. The vomit discovery is noted for the record and The Court is now adjourning because Reginald needs to sit in his car alone for a while.