The clouds ye so much dread...

The third verse of God moves in a mysterious way runs as follows

• Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
• The clouds ye so much dread
• Are big with mercy, and shall break
• In blessings on your head.

I've just found the truth of that. Two phone calls which I've been putting off for several days because I expected them to be difficult and upsetting have both turned out to be friendly and far less disturbing than I imagined.

I'm very good at delaying doing the things I don't like. It's far more satisfying just to get on and do them. If they turn out to be bad at least they are in the past, and if they turn out OK, then extending the period of worry is plain stupid.