I think this question is just perfect for injecting humor. Which kinda goes along with my response. I am not one to easily squirm about filth. God knows I’ve dealt with it that often. Every morning when I look in the mirror as a matter of fact. But unless there is a huge pile of overused greenish moldy heroine syringes in the living room of this house or pet urine soaked yellow couches that actually was green and I open the door and toilet smell knocks me out cold, then I’m still in, and the flies that usually tag along with me. I could always send my dog. Poor girl’s sense of smell is dead.