It is Monday morning and Ramona is running late. She spent the weekend off-planet doing an intensive, and somebody messed up the time conversions. She was supposed to get home on Sunday at dinnertime, and instead she got home at three in the morning with only six hours until a full slate of Monday clients, including a new intake first thing in the morning.

Ramona had been so looking forward to having an administrative assistant, but apparently you don't just hire a person and then all of your problems are solved -- you also have to train them on such matters as leaving buffer around intensive weekends.

She pours herself a giant mug of tea and then has all of 90 seconds to look over the paperwork for this intake.

It's two people.

The first person said, "I mean, my problem is that my ex is completely evil, but it sounds like it will make him happy and they promised they'll make sure it doesn't interfere with murdering him back home."

Well, that's alarming.

The second person said, "My ex is completely evil but will probably enjoy astral projecting somewhere other than prison and this option comes with a guarantee that it won't help him cause problems for anyone except the therapist."

That's not exactly comforting, either!

Aaaaand they're already phasing in on the couch. Fuck. Okay. Monday morning. Let's do this.