Karma Bites Back And It Tastes Like Chocolate

The backstory:

Last night I went grocery shopping after the kids went to bed.  I got home late and tired so I threw the cold stuff in the fridge and went to sleep.  This morning, I had to drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn to take the dog to get neutered.  Then I meet Dave at school, we switch cars, he goes to work and I go home...

I'm in one of those snobby-mom moods (you probably don't know what I'm talking about because I'm the only one who has these, I'm sure) and I'm realizing I had some helpers putting away the rest of the groceries this morning while I was away, and they obviously weren't aware of my brilliant master plans on how such things are done to maximize efficiency, stewardship and space conservation!  The Control Freak Locomotive has leaped the tracks!

And this is the thought that grumbles out of my mouth:

"No one does my job right."

Since my thoughts are synonymous with Facebook status updates I immediately drop what I'm doing and head to the computer to immortalize my bitter narcissism.  Facebook, my computer, or maybe God himself thinks this is a bad idea and saves me from myself; it won't post.  So I get up, turn around and take 3 steps to the kitchen to find this:

And then he started to rub his eyes... as I type this, it's still oozing out of his nose and tear ducts...

It looks like I don't do my job that well, either!

Keepin' it real,
Wendy