Some of you may be wondering whatever happened to the Icarus I kicked up such a ruckus over. It never did get immolated, or reknitted. In the end–my grandmother’s birthday being around the corner–I decided to make the best of a bad situation and block the beast.

Thinking of albatrosses as a very fitting metaphor, I washed it, firmly.

I dumped it on the bed and took a dead jellyfish picture.

I blocked it, very firmly.

Taking a panoramic shot, I decided that what I was seeing was achieved only by the fact it was mounted tighter than a kite on five blocking wires and two sets of pins, and that the top edge would immediately collapse back into its Eurofighter outline the instant it was released.

I was wrong.

Guess it’s a good thing I decided not to frog it.