"The lady next door to me died and wasn't found until she was more liquid than solid on her living room carpet.
The family couldn't pay the back taxes or something and the house went to HUD to auction. HUD paid for some cleanup, but not to replace the carpet, only steam clean it.
It finally sold and I was talking to the guy who was flipping it, and before I could mention the death, he asked if the house had a water leak under the foundation. When they ripped up the carpet and pad to put down the new flooring, it was really dirty and got all over them and their clothes.
I told him what happened and how HUD went cheap on what to fix before the auction, he got green as a pea and started puking right there on his side of the fence."
"I photograph homes. It's normal, people die in homes. I've photographed a few homes where the reason for the sale was a recent suicide in the home. I photographed a new home that the builder killed himself in the garage just before the project was complete.
The weirdest one was mostly very creepy and suspicious. I photographed a billionaire's compound where the guy had an absurd fascination with flesh. There were well over 50 heads mounted on walls from water buffalo to elephant. There were at least five large cats stuffed. Chandeliers made from the feathers of rare birds. Stools made from elephant feet/legs. Paintings and abstract photos of oily skin, 'veiny' muscles of humans and animals. I looked for his kill room, but I never found it.
In general, I find billionaires don't behave like normal people, but this one was particularly weird."
"When we were looking to buy a house, we looked at one in which the father of the family committed suicide. You could tell which room it was because it had clearly recently been sheetrocked and painted. It didn't really bother us though, and we didn't get any creepy feelings.
We chose not to put an offer in because the rest of the house needed a lot of work."
"I once ran into a crazy old gynecologist, who didn't want to sell his house but still wanted to have a good market analysis to present in court for his divorce proceedings. He offered me $500, so I was happy to come out and write it up for him.
First off, I didn't know he was a gynecologist. He never told me until much later when he asked me to put Dr. First name Last name on the paperwork and I asked what kind of medicine he practiced.
I showed up and the outside of the house looked great. It was super clean, very well maintained for a 70-year-old house, and looked pretty as a picture. I walked in and there was nothing but shelving units lining every single wall. Floor to ceiling shelving units. They were also in the middle of every room on the first floor. All of them were loaded with plastic storage bins that were all labeled. They all seemed to have pretty routine stuff. I thought the guy was just a very organized hoarder. One had boxes and boxes and boxes of new pens. One was all rolls of tape. One big one was all toilet paper.
As I got further into the house, the storage bins went from office supplies and toiletries to 'spoons.' Just a giant clear storage tub full of random spoons. One was 'used paper clips.' Used paper clips? He was differentiating between new and used paperclips? Ok. Whatever.
That's when I noticed every room had a TV and a surround sound system. And it was all set up on a shelving unit. This was back when flat screens were like $5,000 and every room had one. Every room also had 'flying saucers' on the ceiling which he said were repeaters so he could change every tv to the same channel at the same time. I must admit, that was pretty cool.
Then we made our way upstairs and it was a mess.
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