Chores

My boss came over to chat with us, full of Christmas cheer. He teases one co-worker for not being done.
Boss, to me: You're done.
Me: My family doesn't do anything. Now Austin's family . . . and on December 25, Austin will come to me about his stuff and I'll end up taking care of whatever Austin doesn't finish.
My boss, round-faced, blue eyes wide, mouth open. I shrug it off. My boss reacted with such shock, I felt bad for bashing Austin. I generally don't mind helping and Austin's been so much better about taking care of his own %&#.
I got off work so early and had to pick up choco chips to finish a project, so I offered to pop in to pick up a this or that for who and them wherever.
Austin: Nah, I have to pick up X anyway.
Me: Fine.
So I get chips. I'm in my car. Not pulled out of the parking lot yet.
Austin calls me on my cell: I was thinking, if I pick up dinner, it will be cold by the time I Alpha Beta Zed. Would you do it for me?
Me: Sure.
Then I went to YYYYY and it was a madhouse. And then I stood in line. The line was clogging up the aisles it was so long. Then the attendant had so many people to help she kept abandoning me when I finally got to the front. I turn to the woman next to me and start singing, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year."
Finally, I get checked out and get to leave.
Then suddenly, I don't feel so bad for bashing Austin about not doing his own chores.