With ratiocination my evening was planned in, well, a fulvous box. Folded and placed categorically were pieces of paper, 300 x 300 pixels; their default sizes. On these sheets were message instructions explaining compendiously where to go, how to get there, who to meet, with what degree to accost, and at what time. The sheets were aligned like folded staples and as I closed the steel door behind me I was reminded of the cold, sharp, indifference that one feels after they've reached for a pair of tweezers in a small tub full of similar accessories at just below freezing. Knowing I despised this felling, I reached for the tweezers in a more comfortable spot; my left shirt pocket, and with them, extracted the next set of instructions carefully from my box. In no adumbrated way did I know exactly just what to do next. I smiled, feeling an air of aplomb, and began following the instructions on my next paper.