As long as I can remember, Secret Acts of Virtue -- and the associated thrill -- have been part of my world. It started quite innocently in early childhood with May Day baskets. I would make baskets out of paper cups and pipe cleaners and put candy or whatever was lying around (maybe not so virtuous, I'm pretty sure I gave rocks some times... but they were PRETTY rocks and I meant them as gifts) and then go to the homes of my elderly neighbors, leave a basket, ring the door bell, and then run off. I didn't want to be thanked for the basket or have attention called to it. But it gave me a thrill to do something like that and then imagine the response. I've left secret Valentines, Easter baskets, and Christmas stockings for friends (though, annoyingly, they usually figure it out pretty quickly). Now, it's entirely possible that these things were met with scorn and fear, but in my mind, they all loved everything I left for them. I suppose cats leaving dead birds for their beloved God-Food-Giver-Petting-Machine might feel similarly, but I try not to dwell on such things.
I do sometimes worry that these "Secret Acts" could someday be held as evidence in a stalking case, so I try to vary my targets as much as possible.
This one is tough to blog about. If I mention the things that I did or tried to do, it takes away from the "secret act" thing. Maybe I should keep a list that can be declassified after I'm gone. That's not really the point of the exercise though.
I chalk it up to my mid-western "don't make a scene" upbringing. "Be nice, but don't you dare think you deserve any credit for anything."
I'll continue to do these sorts of things whenever the mood strikes. It was harder to think about it on a daily basis, mostly it just comes up... I see a need and I have the means or time to tend to it and so I do.
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