i just had to clean up a pile of ...something in the hallway. It certainly came out of a human; I only got close enough to drop a plastic bag over it and gingerly pick it up with two large pieces of cardboard, and I held my breath and averted my eyes so I can't swear to which end of a human it might have come out of.

i cleaned it up because the horror of dealing with it was marginally less horrible than the thought of facing it again in the morning. also, someone would have likely blamed my dogs for it.

I didn't puke, though it was a near thing. I want to kick whoever did that in the face.

ext_15855: (Boom!)

From: [identity profile] lizblackdog.livejournal.com


inorite? i really wanted to not clean it up, on the grounds of IT IS NOT MY JOB TO CLEAN UP AFTER DISGUSTING BASTARDS I DON'T EVEN LIKE JUST BECAUSE THEY LIVE IN MY FUCKING BUILDING, but common sense and not wanting to step in it or my dogs eat it won.

but I resent it ENORMOUSLY.
.

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