Today, while I was working in receiving with Shaun, he whacked me in the head with an enormous crate. To my dismay, there was no bump, no evidence of my pain, no bruise for people to gasp at, demanding to know what had happened. I saw stars, but that's not good enough. Although I think it's done something for my powers of perception.
After all, I've never noticed that everyone walks in time with Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do With It" when it's played on the radio. You try it. I bet you'll find yourself and everyone around you doing it, too.