LIKE A GLOVE

It's raining today. I opened the front door to a torrent of car-splashing, puddle-making rainwater, crashing out of the grey sky, gurgling in the gutter and dribbling from the drainpipe.

"Back for lunch later, are you?" asked my Dad, looming behind me.

"Yes, I suppose so," I sighed.

"Take a brolly," he added, as though it hadn't also just occurred to me.

I swung the umbrella from the coat peg and pointed it out into the rain, then stepped out into Monday morning.

-

"Do you need me for the next hour?" I asked my manager.

"Yes," he replied, matter-of-factly. He didn't even pause-then-laugh, though I was half-expecting it.

No stress-workshop for me then. It's been conveniently de-prioritised by... well, stress.

I gripped my HR-provided stress monitor card until I could see the colour changing under my firmly-pressed thumb. Green. The card says that's 'Normal' but I'm not sure how it's calibrated. 

-

Thankfully, for those stressful/rainy days, there are always off-the-wall colleagues who are writing Christmas carols for the Christmas do... eight months in advance.

"Can you play any Michael Bolton tunes?" asked David, eyes twinkling in the kitchen. I said I thought I probably could and he said 'cool, cool' and backed out of the door with a trayful of mugs.

A little later, he sent me an email with some lyrics which made the day (somehow) a whole lot better, for oh so many reasons. I now present them word for word:

Verse 1
There was once I time when I committed a crime and Jesus led me straight
I was not as bad as Hitler but nowhere near a saint

Chorus
Save me Jesus, bring me your joy and love,
Save me Jesus, I pray for thee up above
Save me Jesus, bring me your joy and love,
Save me Jesus, let my hand fit yours like a glove

Amen to that.