Typically a topic posted as a point develops lines of thread (“Hijacksâ€) as does a frozen point of moisture on a glass bus shelter (Which city in the world installed opaque-walled bus shelters?) develop lines of ice crystals which if left alone will cover a large area. The problem of hijacked threads seems therefore to arise as a direct result of a single topic which, as a zero-dimensional point can do little but offer itself as a seed from which one-dimensional lines of thought spread in all directions which if left unchecked would encompass all of human knowledge plus whatever can be found on the World Wide Web. A possible solution to the problem suggests itself: Start a thread with three disparate ideas related to an original source (me!), thereby defining a triangular area, and hope that thoughts that develop will confine themselves to the boundary defined in a 2-dimensional plane by the 1-dimensional lines identified by the three 0-dimensional thoughts.
In the interests of this theory I therefore present three thoughts:
I live and sleep alone with my cat Jupiter (Groan! Here we go again …). In the middle of the night, should I wake, I reach out and stroke Jupiter for comfort. I tickle him gently under his chin with the ball of my thumb, and he responds by purring. The tip of his tail tickles my nose, and, both greatly re-assured, we return to sleep until just before the ritual of the dawn patrol. It is strange to think that my primitive ancestors huddled together in a cave for comfort and built a fire at the entrance to keep Jupiter’s primitive ancestors at bay during the long, cold, dark nights.
When it is –20c outside, even a heated bus will induce the occasional nasal drip, so the professional is garbed not only in dress pants, pressed shirt and matching tie, but carries a clean ironed handkerchief for reasons of polite public hygiene. A male’s white handkerchief, ironed flat, then folded once and creased, folded again and creased, folded again and creased, and folded again and creased, thus presents eight faces on each side of the handkerchief, a total of sixteen identifiable faces in all, two of which, of course, present themselves as the “outsides†of the folded handkerchief. It is a strange thought that by judicious use and careful re-folding a handkerchief can suffice for two weeks (fourteen days) and still present a clean exterior to the lining of the pocket.
John Allen Paulos’s “Innumeracy†(1) notwithstanding, passengers on a bus play a game of reverse backgammon, in which the object, on boarding, is to avoid as much as possible placing two pieces on adjacent seats, to the extent of standing hanging on to a strap for an entire 35-minute trip at 120 km/hour down a major highway.
(1) “Two aristocrats are out horseback riding and one challenges the other to see which can come up with the larger number. The second agrees to the contest, concentrates for a few minutes, and proudly announces ‘Three’. The proposer of the game is quiet for half an hour, then finally shrugs and concedes defeat.â€
again…I still think it’s time for pizza. 
I’ll document how I did mine soon and you’ll find your requested instructional in the cooking section when I get ‘er done. 
