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Sharon Buchbinder, PhD's avatar

At one time, my husband and I bought a house (aka, the Money Pit) that needed EXTENSIVE renovations. It had been the home of the man who started the savings and loans debacle in the 80's, sold at auction to a couple who used it for collateral for business that went bust, then sold to another couple who had turned it into a...wait for it...UNLICENSED Assisted Living Facility and somewhere between 6-12 elderly people were reported to have lived there. A house in the woods, with lots of stairs, sunken living room, a cat walk, and a pool. To this day, I'm convinced there are bodies of elderly people in those woods. After that, it sat uninhabited for 10 years, until my husband saw it and HAD TO HAVE IT. A nightmare--especially for the hairy WOLF SPIDER citizens who had created a metropolis in the house. Every morning the bathroom sink would feature a wolf spider, just chilling. My husband was afraid of bugs, so it was my job to get rid of them. One morning, I spotted the MOTHER OF ALL WOLF SPIDERS, as big as my hand, in the laundry room. I swung at it with a broom--and missed. To my horror, IT HISSED AND JUMPED AT ME. I swear I levitated and looked like a cartoon character running in the air. We named him Guido and told him he could have the laundry room, as long as we could use it.

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Barb's avatar

I try to ignore spiders in the house: exception -- when they build a web above my bed (because then I can’t sleep, imagining it joining me).

As to how to survive when one lands on me... I’m sorry. I don’t know -- I died. I’m writing this as the ghost of my former self.

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