Sometimes things go perfectly right.
And that's what happened last weekend when we decided we had to get the sheep shorn.
The first thing was that our dear wee grandson had a prior engagement and had to go home early on Saturday after his sleepover. So we dropped him home at 10am without feeling mean, which gave me time to feed my bees while the other half went to the gym.
And I was glad I got out to the bees. They have been hoovering up the sugar syrup like mad, since there is precious little nectar around.
If they don't get cracking making honey, the hive will have a lot of trouble surviving the winter. So it's feed, feed, feed at the moment.
After lunch in town we headed home and up the hill - after weeks of physio my knee was finally up to the task - to round up the stragglers.
There were five renegades in the top paddock, and just when I thought they were heading to the open gate, they turned left, ducked into a gorse thicket and vanished.
I detoured around the gorse to see how they escaped: a branch had grown through a gate and lifted it slightly, leaving a sheep-sized gap at the other end.
Using some No 8 wire I wired it securely while my more agile husband rounded up the five and brought them down the hill. Easy.
A call to the shearer was also good news. He could come next day at 3pm.
So on Sunday morning we got up early and herded the sheep into the shed, so if the threatening clouds dumped rain on us it wouldn't affect our day's work.
The whole mob went in first time.
First time! It usually takes an hour or more of galloping round the paddock, thinking dark thoughts and muttering insults under our breath.
That left us with a spare hour to read the Sunday papers before we tidied things up for the shearer.
He came early, and the sheep were shorn in quick time, ready to go to the sales in a week or so.
And so a job that had worried me for six weeks was accomplished in about six hours. It felt great.
However, other times things don't go so well.
On Monday after work I was looking forward to driving home and trying on my new beekeeping jacket. But when I reached my car park, the car wasn't there.
It was gone, stolen, along with the $70 beekeeping jacket, umbrella, phone charger and any other sundries I may have had in it.
That'll teach me to feel smug.