Please excuse me while I go burp my house.

Following that, I plan to do some dusking.

The cultural habits, traditions and rituals of other countries are often quite delightful. And they often have such delicious words for them, like lüften, the German word for the idea of giving your house a proverbial pat on the back to give it a good burp.

Of course, you’re not actually waiting to hear a loud, rude, guttural sound booming forth from the foundation. The practice of lüften invites you to simply open your windows every day for five to 10 minutes, even during the winter, to allow an exchange of stale air for fresh.

And how about those self-care smarties in the Nordic countries, like Sweden, Norway and Finland, with their tradition of lillördag (pronounced liller-dog), which translates to little Saturday, or relishing an activity we usually save for the weekend in the middle of the week.

We American worker bees like to call Wednesdays hump day, a most crude description of the middle of the work week.

“Happy hump day,” we say to each other in the breakroom as we look to see if a coworker stole our chicken salad sandwich.

But let’s skip all the humping and instead commit to a regular practice of lillördag. Have a friend over for dinner or meet for coffee, see a movie or live music, go for a hike, visit a bookstore or a thrift store or take a class. Not that we don’t all adore our jobs, of course, but it’s good to break up the week.

Those Nordic folk are living right. They also adhere to traditions like döstädning, the practice of Swedish death cleaning, not to be confused with Marie Kondo’s once-all-the-rage KonMari Method, which has you ask whether a belonging sparks joy. If the answer is nay, then you must rid yourself of said object.

Death cleaning is more like taking care of your future generations by organizing your possessions and life. Clean out your junk or pass it along to those who might appreciate it. It sounds a bit grim, but also somehow life-affirming. Lightening your load always feels like it adds a few years to your time clock.

I’ve unknowingly participated in gökotta for some time now — rising at dawn to listen to and appreciate the birdies singing their little hearts out as the sun warms their tailfeathers.

And who knew? I’ve also done my fair share of schemeren, or dusking, a daily ritual in the Netherlands dating back to the 18th century where families sat together to observe the end of the day, the approach of night and the relishing of the gloaming.

It’s not about watching a sunset, since for many of us that’s impossible, but more about paying attention to one point, like a tree, and watching it fade into the darkness.

Here in America, we value productivity above almost everything else. Everyone loves to answer “busy” when asked how they are, and last time I checked, busy isn’t an emotion. We’ve been conditioned to feel our level of busyness is indicative of our worth. But I’d like to nod to the Netherlands, yet again, and the Turks for their practices of niksen and keyif, respectively.

Niksen is the intentional practice of being idle — doing nothing and accomplishing zilch — to rest the mind and reduce stress. The Turkish word keyif translates to pleasure, and taking time every day to do nothing but enjoy the moment. This could pair nicely with gökotta or dusking, or just sitting outside with your beverage of choice and staring at a bird feeder, my favorite way to be idle. If you’re lucky, a chickadee will keep you company.

Copenhageners in Denmark are a species of humans after my own heart. They consider their cemeteries as recreational sites and spend many an hour strolling, picnicking and socializing. Westerners abhor the thought of spending any length of time in a cemetery beyond a funeral service, even though we, too, once treated cemeteries as city parks in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. If you haven’t spent an hour or two wandering through a serene graveyard on a Sunday afternoon, while a canopy of trees scatters dappled light on gravestones, you are missing out.

And lastly, please remember the Japanese art of kintsugi when you break something beautiful and try to repair it, including yourself. Japanese artisans still sometimes repair broken items with gold, thereby highlighting the crack, as they believe an imperfection is not something to be covered up. Mind you, it’s worth considering if this same practice can be applied to your own imperfections. Perhaps where you are broken is the most beautiful.