So I have a spider who lives in the corner of my room. Let's call him Bill. I realized today that I really don't mind having him there. He's the sweet kind of spider with long, skinny legs and a pinhead body. All Bill does all day is hang in his web--right where I can see him. I never have to worry that he might be sneaking up on me. Whenever I think, "Dude, where's Bill?", I can look over to see him cheerily swaying in his web, moving his leg in a spider-wave.
I first met Bill one day when I was stretching on the floor by my window. He came traipsing along the ground. Now that I think about it, he probably wanted to join in the fun. "Look at me!" his buggy voice would squeal. "I can stretch too! See? My legs can wrap around my body!" But at the time, I was just worried I would squish him. "Go away!" I hissed, blowing him toward the window. Swept up on the current of air, Bill landed in a leggy heap by the baseboard. He quickly regained his footing and, swaying like a drunk, started toward me again. I blew him back again. This time he understood. Concealing his injured pride, Bill climbed up my purple-triangled wall to watch me from the windowsill, sipping the blood of his latest fly-victim from a straw.
Bill and I now get along fine. I let him live in my room, he makes sure I don't get eaten alive/ax-murdered by cockroaches. So far he's kept his end of the bargain--I haven't seen a cockroach since Bill moved in. I don't even remember he's a spider sometimes--he's just Bill, the guy in the corner of my room.