This morning as I was drying off after my shower, I noticed a spider hanging a few feet off my towel. I tried to shake him off, but his web held, so I grabbed the web and dropped him in the sink.
As I continued drying, I noticed that the slope of the sink was such that he could not get out. Even using old toothpaste spit for traction he fell short of the top.
So after I hung my towel back up I chased him with a piece of toilet paper until his web caught on it, then I shook him off behind the toilet.
I don't kill spiders anymore. I don't even transfer them outside unless Lady Steed insists. The connotation of a spider in our home is that there are also many smaller unseen critters roaming about. Spiders are predators. If there was nothing to eat, he would not be here. By removing the spider, I'm letting the ittybitty population go unchecked. And since I don't know what those ittybitties are, I choose to assume that I would rather the spiders eat them than let them overrun us.
Where's the svithe in this?
I believe that spiders are one of the things that we, somewhere deep in our genetic code, instinctively fear and hate. But why should we?
When I reexamined my relationship with spiders, I realized that the spiders' goals coincide with my own. If my house was ittybitty-free, the spiders wouldn't come inside. So if they're here, it means they are doing me a favor.
Thank you, spiders.