I went for a run in Central Park early this afternoon, and for the first time in over a week, my mind wasn't tumbling interminably through the spin cycle of should I take the job, should I relocate, where should I relocate to? I was free to enjoy a beautiful, warm late Fall day, feeling the breeze against my skin. The trees were mostly naked by now, but there remained speckles of color here and there. I wished I was able to spend this Saturday afternoon in the park, taking photographs, walking, writing. But this was just a break from work. I'd worked until 10 p.m. the night before, and was to work throughout the afternoon today, and likely tomorrow as well.

November 26 is the cut-off date, where we, by contractual agreement, have to have the applications for all four business units working smoothly. And I'm mostly responsible for getting two of them into that condition. (I've passed on one of them to a new analyst, but she calls and emails me day-long to help her out of her latest complexity.) All seemed to be going well until Friday, when we found a flurry of problems, the result being I have to work all weekend. It's either do the work now, or over Thanksgiving. Nobody told me I had to work the weekend, but if I didn't do it, nobody else could do it, so I just bowed to the inevitable.

Despite the run in the park, I found myself sinking into a stinking, bad-temper in the afternoon, as I wrestled with bugs that somebody else had caused by sloppy work. The sun was slanting into my room blindingly, so I had to shut the blinds, and coup myself up on this beautiful day. Ain't self-pity grand.

Mid-afternoon, to make matters worse, I received an email from my brother with the subject "some news". I knew it couldn't be good news, so I delayed opening it as long as I could. And sure enough, my Dad had had a heart attack. It sounded like he was doing fine, and would make a full recovery. But, for a man as active as my Dad, a heart attack could only mark the beginning of ... well, I wanted to say old age, but he's 76, so I suppose he's been in his old age for years. I wasn't shocked or surprised, really. It's a wonder he hasn't had one earlier, considering his woeful diet of beer, bacon and eggs.

I'd been meaning to call him today too. Originally, I'd intended to add his thoughts to my detailed intake of advice over the last week, about my job decision. But now that I'd made my mind up, I'd just intended calling him to let him know. I'm continually amazed and touched by how keen an interest he retains in the lives of his kids. I've been away from England for 16 years, yet I can't say the slightest thing to my Dad, without later hearing about it from my sisters. I'd told him about the ups and downs on this project, and my sisters wrote to ask if things were getting better.

Anyway, my decision. I've decided to take the job, but not to relocate. At least, not for now. It was just too much at once. I have no doubts about the job whatsoever - I think it will be a great move for me. But since they said I can continue to work from my San Francisco office if I want, and since I just couldn't make my mind up about the move, I decided to delay that decision, even if it means forgoing the relocation assistance, and the excitement of living in a new city. Besides, with most of my new projects being in the East Coast, I'll get to come here frequently anyway, racking up plenty of frequent-flier miles. But mostly, I'm just not ready to leave San Francisco yet.