Oh you sweet summer child. I get to enter the homes BEFORE the cleaners and investigate the scene. I have lots of respect for the cleaning crews, especially when they have to clean out a hoarder home. But let me paint a picture of a sadly typical summer day for me: I get called out to a decomposed body in a single wide in a trailer park that looks like something out of District 9. The utilities are off because they've been dead for days, weeks or months. It's 120-140 degrees Fahrenheit inside. Now everything decomposes much more quickly in the heat. So this poor soul who used to weigh 250 pounds is wedged in the tiny bathroom between the toilet and sink. I say "used to" because the decomposing process has taken hold and their organs have liquefied into a black sludge that has oozed from every orifice on to the linoleum flooring. That's 50-60 pounds of blood, fatty tissue, bile, poop, the whole works, has now formed a moat around the body. The smell is indescribably foul. It permeates the air and sticks to your clothes, your hair, and anything on your person. You can literally taste the foul air. The air is thick with flies. You cringe every time one lands on your skin, knowing that the same fly was tap dancing on that bloated corpse a second ago. There are so many maggots that you can HEAR them swimming under their skin. Sounds something like stirring a bowl of macaroni. Now I've gotta get this guy outta the bathroom to be able to stretch them out and take proper photographs. I pull them by the hands and, whoops! Their arms de-glove and the skin slips off like...gloves. So I finally get them out of the bathroom and into a body bag. Don't forget, it's still an oven in there. I'm in a Tyvek suit with multiple pairs of gloves on and a mask (those are just to keep the flies out of your mouth, the smell still gets through). It's Hurricane Decomp in my uniform underneath and my feet are all squishy in my boots from the sweat pooling. Now I get to peel off these layers of sweat-soaked awfulness and bag them up for incineration. The rest of the day I smell like the Walking Dead despite showering myself down with Lysol and Old Spice. That's not even taking into account the REALLY bad homes, e.g. hoarders, life long smokers and cat ladies. Anyhoo, I love my job. Yay science!