I still laugh about the time my partner caught me hiding kitchen shears under my pillow after binging the first AHS season. Our house is a 100-year-old creaky thing, just like the Murder House in season one. Every floorboard squeak made me jump. Every shadow looked like the Rubber Man. I’d stay up late debugging APIs, then glance over my shoulder half-expecting a ghost to peek around the door. My partner teased me for weeks, leaving a rubber glove on the counter one morning to mess with me. Eventually, I got over the jitters, but that season still sticks with me whenever the attic floor creaks at night.