You went to the beach to find a stone that could be used as a soap dish. It had to be large and flat, preferably in shades of green and gray. And a little hollow on one side would be just fine.
There were mountains of stones, and yet none of them seemed to find mercy for your critical eye.
You found a stone that slightly matched your wish of color, you found another that slightly matched the shape, and your frustration grew. You thought, no, there must be a better one.
Your back was bent over, and each stone you picked up made you doubt between settling for this one or giving up.
The uncomfortable dilemma of not succeeding finally made you give up the search for the perfect stone. You straightened up, and at that moment your gaze inadvertently fell on a suitable stone. You picked it up in your hand and wondered why it had been so hard to find.
Stone after stone, suitable and excellent, now appeared in front of you there on the beach in the mountains of stones, and you saw that you had options in plenty.

You chose to keep the first one.

Now you're asking me if you remember everything correctly.