Mrs. Doom and I have diametrically opposed opinions on spiders in the house.
I view them as welcome tenants who earn their keep (and the right to peacefully exist) by eating all the other bugs, especially the many insect intruders in our basement (house centipedes fucking suck...) My attitude is that if the spiders are getting plump, then business is good, and proof-positive of the benefit they bring to the household.
Mrs. Doom doesn't agree with any of that - zero tolerance for any bugs, though she's squeamish enough that she doesn't even kill them - they just become my problem to deal with.
So whenever I'm alone and I encounter a spider friend boldly chilling out in plain view, I remind them that if they want to stick around, they need to do a better job at remaining concealed.
But they hardly ever listen, the dumb little assholes. I gave multiple reminders throughout the day yesterday, but Mrs. Doom saw two last night, and so I had to escort them both outside because they just wouldn't follow the terms of our agreement.
It's like how you go from benevolent and concerned when you first notice another driver without their headlights on, so you flash your brights a few times, and then when they don't get the hint, you instead become irate with them for being such goddamn morons. Maybe those cars are being driven by spiders?