Do you believe in signs? I'm not talking about Stop, Yield, You Must Be This Tall To Ride This Ride kinda signs. I mean those mystical, I was meant to see this, kinda signs.

I believe in signs. And to top it all off, this nagging little voice inside of me is saying, "Hey is that a sign? This could be a sign. Hoo boy, signs, signs everywhere are signs."

As I mentioned before, I have been offered a job in San Francisco and I am giving it some serious consideration despite the fact that I have said on numerous occasions that I plan on staying in New York City until I die. Well, when the offer came (and it was quite unexpected), it has forced me to reconsider a lot about my life as it currently stands.

1) I am not satisfied with my job. It's not that I don't like my job, but for the most part it does not fulfill me at all. On top of it, I want to kill one of my coworkers. Or at the very least tie her down and rip out her hair one strand at a time until she is bald. She was out last year on a workers comp claim and has been fighting with the WC board for quite sometime in order to receive extra treatments. Well, this week I was to cover the desk a coworker who was going to Florida for vacation. She was directly told that she could not have ANY days off this week as it would require that I cover her desk, Dan's desk, and my desk. This was something I did for a three week period in December last year and it drove me nuts.

Tuesday comes and I'm about to head upstairs to Dan's desk to cover his work when I notice that my coworker hasn't come in. I make a polite inquiry and learn that she's not coming in that day. Well I admit I got very frazzled (not to mention very pissed) and sat down to work her desk as well as mine and Dan's. I figured it was for one day and one day only so it wasn't going to be that big of a deal. I could be upset but she would be in tomorrow and that would be just fine.

Wednesday morning I learn that she has called in and said that she is not going to be in for the entire week which means that I have to cover three desks for the entire week. I am livid now. Fucking livid. My immediate boss is trying to find out what happened that would make her say that she's going to be out all week. If it was because she was fooling around in the snow and overdid herself then he and I are both in agreement she has no excuse. She knows how "fragile" she is so she should be more careful about it. Hell, after I busted up my ribs playing rugby I was in the office the very next day. It takes an act of God to keep me away from work. I have to be on my deathbed before I take a sick day.

So once again. All week. Three desks. Brian not happy.

2) The snow. I am starting to really hate it. I know this is a bad year for snow but considering we didn't have any last year then I can somewhat deal with it for a while but now it's getting ridiculous. The weather is supposedly better in San Francisco. I say supposedly because I don't rightly know enough to comment on it.

3) Then there was Tuesday night. I'm coming home from the gym and I'm on the subway (pretty packed too) and we hear that there is an "accident" at the 125th Street station. When we finally get to the 125th Street station after creeping and crawling our way down the line (it took about 45 minutes to go three stops), the car entrance I am standing in is directly aligned with the train across the platform. Inside the car, right in front of my eyes, is a body bag. Whomever was there died. I have no idea what happened, but the train car doors facing the subway tracks and not the platform are open and there are police officers standing down there which leads me to believe there might have been electrocution, he fell onto the rails, or something. But it was a body bag. Right in front of me. It's an image I still can't shake.

I dunno. Maybe I'm just reading into things but there's just a certain something that is not sitting right with me. Maybe it's the weather just getting me down. Maybe it's just the general dissatisfaction with my life. Maybe it's something I ate for dinner.

It's good that its making me question my priorities and what's important to me. Taking an inventory of your life is pretty much a necessity after every few years. I've lived in NYC for almost six years and moving here changed my life, who I am, how I view myself, the world I live in, everything. It's helped to shape me more than anything else. I don't want to say that I've outgrown the city because I don't think that's possible, but I think that I need to determine whether or not I need to stay where I am or whether or not these Tales From the City are going to take a decidely Mary Ann Singleton tone.