The worst thing about those lists is that, at the moment, I can't think of one single wonderful thing about me. Not one. But I can, at least, think about ten wonderful things. In no particular order:
1) The Oxford English Dictionary. Not only is it a superlatively excellent reference tool, it's also a great monument to the devotion of many lexicographers, both professional and amateur. A potted history may be found here.
2) The organ entry in the second movement of Saint-Saens' third symphony in C minor, opus 78. You'd need a tin ear and an adamantine heart to be untingled by it. It's on page 124 of the score.
3) My friends. Yes, you may all blush and go "Aw shucks".
5) Probably my favourite - well, I hesitate to call it a "children's book", given how much it appeals to many non-children: The Phantom Tollbooth.
6) That scientists, far from being humourless automata or demented Strangeloves, have a definite, if quirky, sense of humour, as evidenced here.
7) The wonderful alchemy that microorganisms wreak on triglycerides and proteins to produce cheese: particularly Roquefort.
8) That very serious cosmologists and physicists interested in what is perhaps the most comprehensive and deepest possible model of reality, M-theory, can use the term p-brane without thinking of Nigel Molesworth.
9) The play of colour in a black opal, my favourite gemstone.
10) The Internet. Spoddy, I suppose, to mention it, but it deserves its place. Without it, I should know fewer of you - and, almost certainly not know my sweet guy; my ability to experience the world, albeit vicariously, would be much reduced; and, of course, I wouldn't be able to show you this list of Ten Wonderful Things.