The Court has reviewed this confession and must now lie down on the floor of this courtroom for several minutes. THIRTY HOUSES. Four months of your life, gone, evaporated, sacrificed upon the altar of a man who suddenly discovered compass directions exist. The garage faces the driveway, the driveway is on the north side, THIS IS HOW DIRECTIONS WORK, and yet here we are, eight days from closing, with a grown adult human calling his lender at dawn like some sort of mortgage Paul Revere warning that the northern garage is coming. Reginald himself once lost a promising relationship because he insisted the bathroom door should swing outward for feng shui reasons, and even HE knows that was insane, and even HE did not call anyone's lender about it. The fact that this man is STILL LOOKING a year later tells The Court everything it needs to know — he will die in a rental apartment, surrounded by Zillow printouts, whispering about garage orientations that might have been. I am now going to go home and simply stare at my own garage, which faces whatever direction it faces, because I am not a LUNATIC. This Court finds the buyer guilty of crimes against real estate, crimes against your time, and crimes against the very concept of commitment. The gavel has spoken and Order the Roomba is circling the defendant's chair in what can only be described as mechanical contempt.