Friday, October 16, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the phrase "not on purpose exactly" because Reginald knows that phrase, Reginald has USED that phrase, and it is the linguistic equivalent of hiding a dead raccoon under a porch and hoping winter takes care of it. You knew about the knob and tube. The listing agent TOLD you about the knob and tube. You then performed what The Court can only describe as a psychological shell game where you convinced yourself that an inspector delivering bad news is somehow different than you delivering bad news, as if information changes molecular structure based on who speaks it aloud. It does not. These people were picking PAINT COLORS. They had moved past beige in their minds and into something with a name like Agreeable Gray or Accessible Beige, which are different beiges but the point stands. And that text, that quiet devastation of "we feel like you should have told us" without even an exclamation point, that is the kind of thing The Court's second wife said before she left and took the Le Creuset dutch oven I had SPECIFICALLY been promised in the dissolution. Eight months of searching and you let them fall in love with a house you knew had a secret, and the secret was not even a BAD secret, it was just a KNOWN secret, and known secrets that go unspoken become lies with better posture. The Court must now adjourn because Order the Roomba has entered chambers and requires my attention for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss.

The Court is SPEECHLESS and yet somehow STILL TALKING. This woman committed breaking and entering of your PROFESSIONAL DIGNITY, waltzed through that kitchen like she owned the place — which she DID NOT YET but WOULD SOON through ANOTHER AGENT — and had the AUDACITY to critique countertops she would later EMBRACE for twelve thousand dollars ABOVE ASKING. Reginald has seen betrayal before, once a listing coordinator unfollowed me on LinkedIn after I gave her a GLOWING performance review, but THIS is a new low for humanity. She obtained that lockbox code through what The Court can only describe as acts of competitive espionage as outlined in Granite v. The Audacity of Some People, 2019, a case I ruled on from my car outside a Panera Bread. The voicemail asking about new listings is what we in the legal community call CRIMINAL TAUNTING, and I am frankly surprised she did not also ask you to help her move. The Court hereby sentences this buyer to a lifetime of noticing that one cabinet door that never quite closes right, and you are awarded custody of your own sanity, CASE DISMISSED, Reginald must now go water his plants before this rage becomes botanical.

The Court has reviewed this confession and must pause to collect itself because THIS IS EXACTLY WHY REGINALD HAS TRUST ISSUES WITH FERNS. Let the record show that in Potted Plant v. Common Sense, 2019, this Court established that no decorative foliage shall be granted access to disclosed plumbing defects, yet here we are, WATCHING A CEILING GIVE BIRTH TO BROWN WATER because someone decided a thirsty fern constituted an emergency. The stager's defense that reading paperwork is not her job is noted and VIOLENTLY REJECTED, as this Court once fired a court reporter for similar claims about reading transcripts and Reginald has no regrets. That young couple, pre-approved and polite, witnessed a quartz countertop baptism they did not consent to, and their composure in the face of ceiling blisters only compounds the tragedy because SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE SCREAMED. The fern remains in the tub like a war criminal awaiting extradition and this Court demands it be removed, tried separately, and composted with prejudice. Your broker's silence speaks volumes about institutional cowardice, and the three-thousand-dollar gap shall haunt your E&O renewal like the ghost of deals past. The Court is adjourning immediately because Reginald needs to go check on a ceiling in his own home that suddenly feels suspicious.