I made a trip into our cellar yesterday noon for something which escapes me now. It is truly a cellar, dank, mildew-infested and the denizen of the dozen feral cats which patrol the environs, keeping the rodent population in check.
Anywho, I get in there and what do I hear but a kitten crying up a storm! Seems the little fecal flapper had fallen from the shelf his mother has arbitrarily designated as "home," landing on a sack of old wood ashes waiting for the day I have enough fat to make soap.
Upon careful examination the only injury of note was to his dignity, so I replaced him on his shelf with his siblings and went about my business.
That's a little bit of my day. What did you do for excitement?