I'm in a bit of a snit, because I got my first rude comment. And no comments afterwards. And it was a post about my current neuroses, and the bitchy remark made me more neurotic (yes, it's true I don't deserve Joel, I believe I said that in a slightly wordier fashion. And please, write I not i, otherwise I will be forced to hate you and laugh and laugh until you arrive in the special circle of hell reserved for people who don't capitalise the first person singular). Which all makes perfect sense, yes? Oh, and Blogger's been a bitch.

I have a Batman action figurine who travels everywhere with me- as in, he moves house when I do, rather than I keep him in my handbag for emergencies. Actually, what kind of emergencies would those be? Theo is very attracted to this toy; presumably because I stupidly told him it was off limits, so he keeps filching it from under my nose when my attention is focused elsewhere.
Because, while I am on holiday and have nothing better to do, I haven't quite reached the stage where I obsess about the whereabouts of one of my toys. Ahem, ornaments. Models. Collectors items. *gives up*

This Batman toy is the most flexible figurine I've ever met- and I've been disillusioned in this field ever since I broke my Barbie's legs during a fit of boredom in the back of the car on a trip to the seaside. But Batman is not only poseable, he's also a very stalwart guardian- currently he's set to guarding the printer; presumably that's where Theo was when his fickle-o-meter ticked away from him.
The printer being on the floor, Batman has discovered a new nemesis. The cats, who artlessly topple him from his perch with a flick of their tails.

It's tough being a superhero when you're only six inches tall.