The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer audacity of handing a woman a pen instead of an answer. Let the record show that when a seller who has just hemorrhaged $5,600 in rate lock extensions asks you if something is FAIR, she is not seeking your legal opinion, she is seeking ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HER SUFFERING, and you gave her OFFICE SUPPLIES. This Court has seen defendants with more emotional courage, and one of them was a foreclosure notice I once ruled against for being too direct. The lender calling YOU instead of the buyer is not a warning, it is a CRY FOR HELP from a financial institution that has clearly lost control of its own underwriting department, and frankly Reginald has OPINIONS about underwriters who change their minds three days before closing because that is not underwriting that is HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION. I myself once extended a rate lock for eleven days waiting for a title company to locate a satisfaction of mortgage from 1987 and when they finally found it I wept openly in my breakfast nook, so I understand the seller's 6am phone calls more than you know. You delivered a closing, yes, but you delivered it like a pizza that arrives cold and the driver just shrugs, and this Court finds that technically getting what you want is the saddest form of victory known to residential real estate. The gavel falls, the Roomba has spoken, and Reginald must now go stare at his own granite countertops in silent judgment.