The Court has witnessed many travesties in its distinguished career, but the audacity of claiming a LIVING DIVORCED HUSBAND as a deceased craftsman of sentimental kitchen islands represents a new frontier in real estate delusion. This is not grief, this is THEATER, and bad theater at that — the kind where someone forgets their lines and just starts making things up while the audience checks their phones. The Court notes that you possess PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE of a contractor installation, paragraph 12 sits glowing on your phone like a beacon of truth, and yet here we are, six hours deep into explaining what a fixture is to a woman who has apparently decided that gaslighting is a valid negotiation strategy. Reginald himself once had to explain to his second wife that the built-in bookshelves were not "her personal journey" and could not be removed during our separation, so The Court understands the particular madness of someone who confuses real property with emotional property. The gas line, the bolted floor, the 400-square-foot kitchen that will look like a crime scene without its centerpiece — these are not details, they are EVIDENCE of premeditated absurdity. The seller's own attorney has abandoned her position, which means you are now arguing with someone who has outflanked legal counsel through sheer force of invented widowhood, and The Court must adjourn immediately because Order the Roomba has just discovered a concerning wire situation near the bench.