Last week I asked a few friends to brainstorm with me to create a list of Random Acts of Kindness that I could implement.
Here’s the list:

• Pay bridge tolls for car behind you
• Buy someone a free coffee
• Give candy to strangers
• Hold the door open for someone
• Compliment someone on their attire
• Help carry groceries
• Get rid of spare change – Feed a meter
• Give money to homeless person
• Give food to homeless
• Start conversation with homeless person
• Let someone cut in line
• Offer to carry someone’s bag at airport
• Give movie ticket to a stranger
• Donate clothes
• Make a donation in someone’s name
• Mow someone’s lawn
• Prune rose bush – check first with owner
• Bring newspaper up the steps to someone’s porch
• Give someone time by doing something – offer time
• Pick up dry cleaning
• Make something for somebody – a poem
• Write someone his or her own personal theme music

Important Announcement: (more…)

I’m standing in front of a wall of eight large industrial dryers. I’m trying to figure out how often my Bounce softener sheet makes contact with my black shirt, which by the way, has now spun in a complete circle over 48 times. Yet again HE leaves the laundromat door wide open. I begin to shiver in the cool night air, close the door AGAIN, and try to start counting – but it’s no use. It’s late, I’m cold, and I want to go home. I place my hands on the dryer door, it warms them quite nicely, and I give myself a pep talk. Your new dryer will arrive tomorrow…you’ve got just seven more minutes and then you’ll never have to visit the Wash N’ Fold Laundromat again. Just keep counting.

HE has a full head of silver white hair and has been folding towels since I arrived. HE is the slowest towel folder I have every witnessed. He has carried three piles of white bath towels to his car – leaving the door open each time, which I then close. I’m fascinated and annoyed, why does a man need over 20 white bath towels, and why doesn’t HE close the door?

His long mustache and beard are also silver white. He wears very tight bleached blue jeans and has tucked the hems into his worn brown boots. His black fleece jacket is tucked into his waist, which is hugged by a wide brown belt with a large square silver buckle. He looks like Cowboy Santa. I can see his reflection in the dryer door. Our eyes lock and HE says:

CS: Doing laundry is a hurtful job.

Me: What do you mean hurtful?

He looks up and down at the row of washing machines and doesn’t answer right away…he must be folding his thoughts together.

Finally he says… (more…)