Truly, you must have been a Methuselah or Samson of the Arachnidae!
But no Solomon.
Had you kept in your corner, all might have ended well.
But perhaps distressed by a stray droplet, or pungent steam, or the sight of a hominid,
You ventured out across the ceiling,
Dancing jerkily across gossamer threads that threatened to deposit your magnificence upon my head.
And so you met the fate of many sailors, from the companions of Odysseus to the Ty-D-Bol man.
Transported by the gods upon a magic shampoo bottle, and cast into Charybdis.