Serendipity. That's the word. When something wonderful happens that you did not expect, so you feel that you cannot really take the credit.
I have accidentally made the perfect mittens. They are the perfect color. The wool is from local sheep, locally spun and dyed. They are fair isle. And they fit better than most gloves. On my first go. Perfect.
Perfect excites me. If the mittens are perfect, that mean I never, ever, ever have to make another pair of fair isle mittens for as long as I live because the last ones were not good enough. Now I can just make whatever I like and not care about perfect. Which I would have anyways, but it is a relief.