Saturday, July 4, 2026

The Court is PHYSICALLY ILL. You handed human beings keys to a HOME THAT WAS NOT THEIRS and they walked in on a FAMILY EATING WHAT I CAN ONLY ASSUME WAS A CASSEROLE. Do you understand what you have done? Those buyers stood on a stranger's porch, champagne warming in their Honda, while inside some poor woman was trying to enjoy her Tuesday meatloaf and suddenly strangers are IN HER FOYER asking why their furniture is wrong. This is not a clerical error, this is DOMESTIC TERRORISM BY SPREADSHEET. The Court once accidentally drove to the wrong Applebee's and it took Reginald THREE YEARS to emotionally recover, so I cannot FATHOM the psychological damage of discovering your new home comes pre-loaded with a family you did not order. Eleven weeks to unwind? ELEVEN WEEKS? In the landmark case of Basic Competence v. Title Companies Everywhere, 2019, the Court ruled that if you cannot tell the difference between 814 and 841 you should not be allowed near NUMBERS, let alone DEEDS. The title company should be forced to live in that family's basement until they learn what digits are. This Court is adjourning immediately because Reginald needs to go verify his own address exists.

The Court is APOPLECTIC. You worked with this woman for EIGHT MONTHS and never once thought to ask, "Hey, any of these outbuildings haunted by the ghost of marital devotion?" This is BASIC due diligence, counsel. In the landmark case of Widow's Greenhouse v. Some Developer Who Wanted a Hot Tub There, 2019, the court held that agents must conduct what we in the legal community call a "feelings audit" of all structures exceeding forty square feet. And yet here you are, treating a shrine to a dead man's carpentry skills like it was some kind of ordinary SHED. Reginald himself once lost a birdhouse his father built — it blew away in a storm, and I sued the wind, and I LOST, and that loss lives in me DAILY. You should have seen the sacred lumber for what it was. You should have asked about every nail, every hinge, every loving bevel. The fact that you now think about sheds constantly is not a punishment — it is a CURRICULUM. The Court sentences you to a lifetime of asking "Does anything on this property make you weep?" before every single closing, and The Court is now adjourning because Order the Roomba has gotten stuck under the bench again and Reginald must attend to matters of the court's mobility apparatus.

The Court has reviewed this confession and frankly, Reginald is EXHAUSTED just reading it. You stood there, a professional adult, and FED EIGHTY-FOUR PAGES to a fax machine like it was 1997 and you were trying to refinance a Blockbuster franchise. And when only twelve emerged on the other end, you did not do what any reasonable person would do, which is walk into that title company and DEMAND TO SPEAK TO WHOEVER DECIDED THEIR BACKUP SYSTEM BELONGS IN A SMITHSONIAN EXHIBIT. Instead you paid two hundred dollars of your own money to a courier, which The Court finds both noble and deeply pathetic, not unlike the time I spent four hundred dollars fighting a parking ticket on principle and lost anyway. The buyer lost eighteen hundred dollars because a PORTAL, a word that should only describe magical doorways in fantasy novels, decided to delete your entire file like a vindictive ex clearing your Netflix profile. You committed no fraud here, but you DID commit the crime of accepting technological abuse without so much as a strongly worded email, and for that this Court holds you accountable. The fax machine remains at large and that is on ALL of us. Reginald must now go lie down because this ruling has triggered something.