We all have them. Some of us, like me for example, have more than others. You know what I mean, don't you? The mind takes a little hiatus and before we know it, we're examining our actions and say "Duh."
Yesterday I edged the carpet in our guest room in preparation for a visit from my mother. I had a cigarette dangling from my lips as I went around the walls with the vacume cleaner hose in my hand. I sensed the ash was getting long, and being a male and therefore lazy, I lifted the hose and held it up to the end of the lit cigarette. This, I reasoned, would cause the loose ash to rise into the hose and would be better than dropping ash on the carpet.
Why I thought it was better to have the ash go up the hose rather than vacume it off the carpet--which was my next step in cleaning the room--I don't know.
Actually, I do know: Brief Moment of Duh. ...BMD, for short.
A few minutes later, I stood and walked to the dresser to put the cigarette out in the ashtray.
...I didn't have to put the cigarette out.
...The BMD took care of that. The vacume cleaner sucked not only the loose ash, but the entire cherry-red, hot, tip. Sheared that cigarette off right at the cool, safe part.
The BMD evaporated in an instant. I laughed and sat on the bed, watching the bag on the upright vacume cleaner with keen interest. It was full of cat hair, dust, and whatever else I'd sucked off the floor in the past several months. After a few minutes, I decided it was safe to remove the full bag and carry it out to the garbage can. I wasn't completely sure there wasn't a smoldering fire waiting to grow...but I decided that if there was going to be a fire, I wanted to share it with my neighbors.
...I'm very considerate that way.