Today we celebrate "Compliment day." - Experiencing constant sunshine throughout the day.
I wipe my forehead with a loud noise when someone has trouble with money or a card at the cash register in front of me. "Mom, is this still happening?" my daughter exclaims disdainfully as I quickly park in a spot, even though I saw someone else planning to do the same. "Digging for gossip under one's fingernails," my mother used to say.
It's Time for a Microadventure
It's high time for a microadventure, which is the term for stepping out of your comfort zone for a short period. I'm going to pretend to be a source of sunshine all day, no matter what happens. No matter what the weather is like. No matter who I come across. A challenge for myself.
At the supermarket checkout, I begin. A young man is standing behind me, apparently in a hurry. "Take your time," I tell him, "I'm not undergoing open-heart surgery." He thanks me. It's nice to let two more customers go in front of him.
"The blue color looks lovely on you, finally no black," I say to a woman in a blue coat. She beams. "It's from Lidl, only €30," she says. I'm getting into the groove. "What a cute little stress ball," I tell a father with a baby carriage. Dad is happy.
Giving out spontaneous compliments feels fantastic. The best way to counteract the irritating daily grind. I throw coins into the cups of beggars. I help an old woman push her rollator through a puddle. I chase after an elderly man who has lost his glove. I praise the grumpy supermarket cashier: "How do you get such a perfect winged liner?"
Making people smile and having the knot of bad mood in me loosen is very pleasant. Giving small moments of well-being and feeling better and better is the result. It feels so good that I become bolder. The older woman in the drugstore is a little taken aback when I ask her, "What perfume are you wearing?" But she chuckles back: "Chanel for Men, my late husband used to wear it, so I can still smell him."
As I go home that day, a younger man bumps into me, headphones in his ears, eyes fixed on his phone. "Watch out, you fool," I would usually say. But I say nothing, only smile. It feels better.
