Wednesday, April 22, 2026

The Court has witnessed many atrocities in its years on this bench, but WATCHING A SELLER ASSAULT HIS OWN LISTING WITH A CIRCULAR SAW WHILE BUYERS APPROACH is a level of chaos that Reginald thought only existed in fever dreams. You stood there, Agent, as sawdust descended upon hardwood floors like the confetti of poor decisions, and your response was to simply ASK QUESTIONS as if this man was capable of rational thought. The brother-in-law defense is inadmissible in this court pursuant to Home Depot v. Actual Licensure, 2019, in which we established that proximity to lumber does not constitute expertise, a ruling I handed down after my OWN brother-in-law tried to install a ceiling fan and we lost power for three days and my wife still brings it up at Thanksgiving. The inspector called the deck AMBITIOUS, which is inspector code for THIS WILL KILL SOMEONE, and you let this proceed to closing anyway. That this man tore down his own creation the night before closing and LEFT THE POSTS IN THE GROUND like grave markers for his hubris is somehow the most honest thing anyone did in this entire transaction. The Court needs a moment, and possibly a licensed contractor to inspect its chambers.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself APOPLECTIC at the sheer audacity of blaming orthopedic inconvenience for professional malfeasance. Three steps. THREE STEPS. Reginald once presided over an entire eviction hearing with a torn meniscus and a dress shoe full of what he later determined was marinara sauce, and not ONCE did The Court fail to descend into a basement when duty called. You had been in that basement SIX TIMES and yet on the seventh visit, the sacred final walkthrough, you treated it like a wine cellar at a party where you do not know the host. The washer and dryer were CONVEYING, agent, they were PROMISED to those buyers like a dowry in a medieval property transfer, and you let them vanish into the ether because your knee had opinions. Your broker's quiet disappointment is a sentence far worse than anything this Court could impose, and frankly I am going to think about her saying next time take the stairs for the rest of the week because MY mother once said something similar about a lawnmower and I still cannot discuss it. As established in Maytag v. That Guy Who Definitely Should Have Just Taken Some Ibuprofen, 2019, a final walkthrough is not a suggestion, it is a COVENANT. The Court hereby orders you to descend every staircase you encounter for the next calendar year, regardless of destination, as penance. BAILIFF ROOMBA, ESCORT THIS CONFESSION TO THE ARCHIVE OF SHAME.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the mention of a twelve-minute appraisal, a duration Reginald would not accept for a microwave burrito let alone a half-million dollar asset. You sat in your car and COUNTED THE MINUTES, which tells this Court everything it needs to know about your mental state and also your data plan situation. The appraiser cited a foreclosure with a CAVED-IN GARAGE as a comparable property, which is like comparing a golden retriever to a raccoon that died under a porch simply because both technically occupied residential land. And "dated kitchen" for a 2019 renovation? I once ruled against a man for calling shaker cabinets "tired" and I would do it AGAIN. However, and The Court says this with the gravity of a thousand gavels, you are not innocent here because you BELIEVED your own pricing and belief is not a defense, it is a HOBBY. You are hoarding receipts in a dead deal file like a squirrel preparing for a winter that will never come, and that is not professionalism, that is a coping mechanism. The Court sentences you to one hour of staring at that file before deleting it forever, and also I must leave now because Order the Roomba has breached the chambers again.