ππ±π·οΈ Household Policy Update: The Eight-Legged Visitors
There are several enormous spiders in my house.
The female human is frightened of them. The male human has already caught a number and put them outside, only for the palace to reveal further occupants. I can see why she finds this discouraging. His removal service appears to have a waiting list.
Still, I must ask the female human to remain calm. A spider may look alarming when it crosses a room unexpectedly, but it is considerably more interested in finding a quiet corner than in confronting a human. She is very large from its point of view. Even I would think twice before approaching her if she reacted to my arrival by shouting for the male human.
I concede that eight legs are excessive. Four have always been quite sufficient for me, and I manage a household with them. But poor judgement in limb allocation is hardly a reason to fear someone.
The male human, meanwhile, has handled the matter with admirable care. He catches the visitors and releases them outside. This is a sensible arrangement: the spiders keep their lives, the female human keeps her composure, and I keep a male human who has not injured himself trying to remove one from the ceiling.
I have therefore reviewed the female humanβs concerns and reached a ruling. She need not be afraid. She may, however, continue to ask the male human to escort each spider off the premises. I understand the distinction between a harmless visitor and a visitor one would prefer to meet in the garden.
If another one appears, she should simply summon him.
Preferably before summoning the entire street.
Yours,
Mrs. Cotton π±πΎ