Aww, I love my coworkers. Work has been very stressful the past few days, especially as my partner, Chris, took off Friday and Monday to move into his new apartment, and his alarm didn’t go off this morning, meaning he got in around 11. My job feels about four times harder when doing it on my own, and some of the time frames our producers have been giving me alone would be tight even with both of us working on the characters at the same time.
Anyway, I got a text message from Chris after work: “Thank you so much for all your hard work lately. It is not going unnoticed obviously. You rock.”
Warm fuzzies. :D
Though alas, on the cold, non-fuzzy front, Michael Crichton died yesterday. His were some of the first “adult” novels I read. I remember being nine years old, and my mom (quite wisely) wouldn’t let me see Jurassic Park, so I checked out the book from the library and read that instead. Then I picked up Sphere, which became one of my favourite books at that age. My sister asked me if I was carrying around “big books” to make me look smarter.
I don’t think I’ve read anything of his since junior high, but… he had a hand in shaping the craziness that is my brain today. He was singly responsible for kicking off my paleontology obsession phase. He will be missed.