Karma and Reason are drinking shots of tequila

Last spring when ski season ended, and my seasonal job with it, I was going through an aimless spell. I know that is a rich statement even for me, but I was tired of my job and was looking for a bit of direction for the rest of my life. Such was my desperation that I even went so far as to toss a few kernels of prayers out in to the atmosphere in hopes they would fall at somebody’s bare blessed feet and be answered with a firm response. After a few days of pondering and awaiting an answer I happened to open a local paper and was perusing the classified ads when I came upon an opening at a local preschool. My first reaction was to gufaw and say, “Yeah, right! Whatever, suckers. Good luck getting anybody for that position.” But then I caught myself and wondered if perhaps the Beings of Karma had directed me here after they received my intentions. Not one to openly screw with Karma, I sat on it a couple of days before again looking in the paper to see if the ad was still there. Sure enough it was and my thoughts turned more to, “Are you fucking serious, Karma Beings? Preschool? What the fuck?” At this thought I swear I felt a gentle pull of the Universe as it stuck a fork up my ass, I interpreted this to mean that I simmer the hell down and call the school. I did. I was offered the job. I pondered it a bit and then I accepted it. At that point there was the small voice of Reason in my head, she quietly said, “Um, Heather, are you stupid? Who the hell cares what the Karmic Beings say. Everybody knows they are stupid bitches. Girl, you have a preschooler of your own. What the hell are you thinking that you can teach them all day long and then go home to your own?” I graciously told Reason to shut the hell up, thank you very much. I figured she was just being a ninny and the Universe had my best intentions at hand.
We half now officially passed the half way mark through the school year. I know this because every morning in January I awoke and counted the days until we would pass over the halfway hump and I would know my insanity was on the down slide. It’s not that I don’t like my job. I do. The parents are amazing. The children and wonderful. But the are preschoolers. Everyday it is a preschooler bellowing for me at 6:10 a.m. because he needs to pee and see my face to ensure his world is A Okay. Then it is off to work with 17 preschoolers who seem to love saying the words Miss Heather at the loudest volume -ever. Then it is home again to my own personal preschooler who hasn’t seen me for eight hours and wants to share, in explicit detail, every moment of those eight hours with me so we can catch up on the good times of his day. And when he is done he wants a glass of milk, a straw, to see my face and then to perch on my lap so that I can read him seven books in a row.
So this is my question now: Are the Karmic Beings sitting around, slapping high fives and yucking, “Yeah, did you see Craven? She actually fell for it! Man she is so gullible.” Is Reason sadly shaking her head in agreement with them and replying, “Dudes, I told her. I done up told that bitch and she didn’t listen.”