Hello again!  You mustn’t be very bright.  How many times have I had to rescue you and your forbears from this bathtub?  I resent you for repeatedly putting me in this position.  It would be so easy to simply run some water and flush you down the drain.  So here we are again, sharing this zen moment where I balance the value of your simple spider life against my desire to conveniently take a bath. If I could just pick you up by one of your eight legs and simply escort you to the door, you wouldn’t be so much of a problem. Unfortunately, I am repulsed by that prospect, you are obliged to resist, and your body is far to delicate to endure the ordeal. Consequently, I must put my robe back on, go find a magazine and return to the tub. You need to forcibly be “coaxed” onto the magazine so that I can extricate you from my tub without crushing your horrible little body. Then I must decide if you are to be banished from the house or merely relocated to a dark corner. I don’t object to your presence; I don’t mind sharing my home with you. However, if we are to co-exist, there are a few groundrules to which you must adhere. First of all, be discrete, stay out of sight. Weave your webs under the tub, behind the dryer, or better yet, live in the cellar. If you must occasionally wander around the house, do it at night when you won’t be seen or stepped on. I don’t mess with your flies, you should never mess with my food.
We are in a symbiotic relationship. I provide you with shelter and warmth, you kill and eat things that annoy me. I want you to eat Kelly Ayotte, but you would be poisoned in the process. Seriously, your job is to trap and eat flies, centipedes, earwigs and such. That is why I am not flushing you down the drain and going to great pains to assure that you and your progeny (you all look the same to me) will continue to prosper in my home. So, go spin your webs, kill flies and grow your family! Just keep the hell out my bathtub! One of these days I might not be so magnanimous in our dealings.