I sat down on a bench and had some fast food today. I cracked open a can of carbonated soft drink (they don't pay me so I won't advertise their brand) and decided to put it on the ground rather than on the bench, next to me, because I was afraid I'd knock it over with the corner of my jacket or something. The trees are blooming so, you know, there's petals and fluff, and leaves, and all sorts of shit coming down from above. I thought, oh no, I should pick the can off the ground and put it back next to me.
You see, benches are for people to sit on. The ground is for nature to do her business, it's where tree detritus falls. I had a preconceived categorical division of the human and non-human realm and this imbued the bench with a magical aura of protection. If I put the can back on the bench, then said can was, by virtue of this rational categorization, protected from any petals that might fall into its mouth. I thought this intuitively and easily. It was, for that moment, the truth for me.
This is what "education" does to your brain.