1. The mild chagrin when you realize that the thing scratching your throat is the tag on your shirt, because you've been wearing it backwards for several hours.
1A. The somewhat stronger chagrin when you realize you've gone out of the house like that.
1B. The discovery that you really don't care.
2. The internal "Aww, damn..." wince when you see a small, sad lump in the middle of the road.
2A. The slightly embarassed feeling when you realize it's a roadkilled paper bag.
I swear I do that last every time I leave the house.
Weird thing--here in Arizona, there are roadkilled pigeons EVERYWHERE. I never saw a dead pigeon in Minnesota, but either they breed one stupid ground-dwelling rock dove here, or something, because deceased pigeons litter the road. It's strange. I dunno if I've stumbled onto some kind of pigeonish machismo culture requiring them to play chicken with grilles or if there's something in the water or what.