Yesterday I had to unexpectedly gut a fish that I'd put in salt water to purge (we have fish at uni). I'd been not expecting to do it for another week but it died on me - bad fish. I took the guts up the back to throw in the industrial waste bin in the refridgerated PM room - post mortem container for animal post mortem remains. I had been feeling queezy all day but I would have been fine if I hadn't opened the door and found an entire horse in there. I couldn't walk in the door. I'm ok with small dead animals, but not those bigger than I am.
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