Tuesday, April 29
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Home bitter home [journal]I packed last Saturday with tears welling in my eyes. It was a great two years of harmony and freedom. My housemate planned to pack the next day so he and his girlfriend helped me. To artficially create some sap I downloaded "it's closing time" by Semisonic and put it on repeat. We laughed initially, but it actually became semi-depressing. The goodbye was anti-clamatic because my brother and mom drove down and sat in the car waiting for me, so i gave him a hug, said goodbye, have a good trip and we have to keep in touch.
My first day at my job I found out why I got the job. My dad refers patients to the rehab place and I saw how much they get from each patient: 1700. The reports I'll be helping type up alone costs 1200 or so. It's funny because the psychologist makes 170 an hour--tons--but it's only a small part of his income. The main source is actually just the report, written document about what he plans to do.
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