The Red Book, Carl Jung's long secreted artifact of his journey into the dark night of the soul.
It came in a very big box (cat not included) . . .
That held another, slightly smaller box . . .
That coughed up the actual book, hermetically sealed in a thin plastic skin . . .
and the final object inside . . .
and, yes, it's really, really red.
as red as blood, as red as passion, as red as my bloodshot eyes by the time I finish it. If I disappear for the next month or two, you now know why.