Bemused

There are moments of complete amused amazement in our daily life that we’ve all had. Mostly we slide on by them without paying much more attention to those instances than a shrug and a bemused shake of our mental calculator.

Here’s an example. The example is especially well suited for four-legged, furry pet persons.

If you would, please, take a moment to recall how often you have found a hair from your animal in such an unexpected place or in such an unlikely arrangement with some other fabric or object: 

…remember how that single strand of fur almost seemed to be woven (wove?… itself?) into the very fabric of the sweater you’re wearing, so much so that you need a tweezer to remove it, like a splinter, or like when you found one embedded in the elastic of an undergarment, or in filing cabinet folder, or medicine cabinet…

And for that exact moment of recognition, confirmation of pet hair, 

You were actually amazed, like…

Stunned amazed, like…

‘what the hell are the odds of that happening?’ sort of amazed.

And then we simply move on, into the next moment of what we were doing. It’s as if, in the instant of the experience, we also calculated that there was no way we would or could ever know that single strand’s pathway. We don’t feel bad about that, or feel like we’re a failure or too stupid for not knowing why it ended up where we found it. It doesn’t matter. Nope. No self-loathing attached to failing to track every single hair.

That would be like trying to be perfect.