The Court is APOPLECTIC. You handed the keys to a twenty-two-year-old insurance salesman because you wanted to eat your breakfast in peace? BREAKFAST? Reginald once skipped his own colonoscopy to attend a showing for a two-bedroom condo with original hardwood, and you could not put down your EGGS BENEDICT for five minutes to find actual coverage? This is not a confession, this is a CATASTROPHE with a decorative soap origin story. A child — unsupervised, unvetted, presumably sticky — was permitted to interact with plumbing fixtures while an insurance nephew stood by doing whatever insurance nephews do, which is apparently NOTHING of value. And then — THEN — this nephew, this amateur, this absolute CIVILIAN had the audacity to gaslight a homeowner about twelve thousand dollars of water damage like we are all just supposed to believe basements spontaneously weep through their ceilings? The Court has seen bold lies before, but "it was already like that" regarding an ACTIVE FLOOD is the kind of mendacity that keeps Reginald up at night, pacing his hallway in judicial robes, muttering to The Council about the decline of professional standards. I once held a garage in contempt for inadequate shelving, and I will not hesitate to note that your vacation breakfast cost more than most people's deductibles. The Court rules that you are guilty, that the nephew should be barred from all properties with indoor plumbing, and that decorative soaps are a menace to society that Reginald will be addressing in a future memorandum opinion.