An octopus holds seven bananas high above her head, one for each spare arm, the eighth being of course necessary for peeling. If she had picked up eight bananas from the store, she would certainly have had a hard time skinning them, and she might perhaps be stuck holding bananas high above her head, like some perverse aquatic chandelier, forever. And that wouldn’t be a nice way to live, she thinks to herself, as she sets about peeling her meal.