Phone call, early. Once that initial moment of panic passes, I take the call; it's Rose, letting me know that their ancient dog has crapped on the carpet, and she accidentally tracked it around, so to be careful where I walk when I get home. OK, I'll handle that. I get here, and find that Ray has soiled himself, so I get to clean THAT up, too. Oh, and let's not forget that one of their cat's has bagged a bird, but not killed it, and has managed to drag it around the house, ending in the bedroom, so I get to handle a wounded, scared, and dying bird, too. Clean up bird, clean up Ray, get him stretched and out of bed. Make breakfast, prepare for heading to the doc appointment. Change Ray's pants AGAIN (as well as the wheelchair, etc.) due to an accident. Get him ready and out. Doc appointment, home, get back situated. Make lunch. Clean up dog shit. Clean up bird feathers. Now, preparing for a physical therapist visit, and another therapist later. Still need to clean wine bottles in anticipation of Sunday's bottling. All this on a day when my knee has decided it's an excellent time to flare up.

Yes, somewhere there's a list of great jobs, and there are people who here anecdotes form those jobs and say to themselves and those around them, "Man, I wish I had THAT guy's job." My job is not on that list. ;)