Bleh. Am feeling incredibly sick to my stomach after dissecting a sheep's heart, lungs and other assorted goodies. One of my friends kept spouting Shakespeare at me ('Out, damned spot!') and both of them went to the deed with altogether a little too much eagerness. I find it disturbing that we actually contain this stuff. I can still smell the gloves, only my mind is convinced it smells blood. (Ack, stupid keyboard) More Macbeth references. I'll be glad when that's over.