Tuesday, October 27, 2026

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.

The Court is BESIDE ITSELF with the sheer audacity of what has transpired here. You were on VACATION, presumably sipping something with an umbrella in it, and when a seller called asking to perform unsupervised surgery on a kitchen that was ALREADY BELOVED BY BUYERS, you said SURE like she was asking to borrow a cup of sugar. This Court once had a client ask if she could paint her front door chartreuse two hours before a showing and I said NO, MEREDITH, CHARTREUSE IS A CRY FOR HELP, and that listing sold in forty-eight hours. You had a DUTY to ask follow-up questions, specifically the question WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY FAUCET AND WHERE DID YOU FIND IT. Estate sale brass is not a design choice, it is a warning sign, like when someone tells you they have opinions about grout. The buyers almost WALKED, their rate lock EXPIRED, and now this woman has the NERVE to ask why you did not stop her as if you are her parent and she is a toddler reaching for a hot stove. Reginald is INCENSED. The gavel has spoken and it sounds like water damage.

The Court has reviewed this harrowing testimony and frankly Reginald needs a moment because this has triggered memories of my own 2017 printer incident that we do NOT discuss in this courtroom. You drove to someone's HOUSE because their laptop predates the Obama administration and you thought THIS was the solution? That laptop should be in a MUSEUM, not processing legal documents, and yet here you are, a grown professional, watching a man click REJECT like he's swatting a fly off his screen while your commission evaporates into the ether like dignity at a timeshare presentation. The Court finds it DEEPLY suspicious that you claim to not work Sundays yet somehow worked Sunday, which suggests either perjury or a complete collapse of personal boundaries that frankly mirrors my own situation with The Council. I once presided over a case where a fax machine was held in contempt for similar delays, and per the landmark ruling in DocuSign v. That Guy's 2009 Dell, 2022, the technology is NEVER at fault when human stubbornness is present. You cleared twenty-eight hundred dollars for what amounts to a two-week hostage negotiation with PDF files, and the Court calculates your effective hourly wage at roughly the cost of a mid-tier breakfast burrito. Reginald must now adjourn to yell at his own printer, which has been acting suspicious lately.