So I finally figured out where the smell of moth-balls is coming from in math class: this manky brown, hooded jacket that seems to stalk me as I move my way around the classroom day after day. I have even gone so far as to experiment in different spots amongst the room, but time and time again, here she comes, late as usual, managing to find a comfortable spot right beside me. Amongst all the didgets and numbers, figures, and dollar signs: the all-pervasive odour of moth balls.
They say that you get used to the smell of something because your olfactory cells fill up, or fire all their little chemical somethings to the brain, or some shit like that. Purely something that I have absolutely no recollection of from high school Biology. But, with this smell, something’s not working right in the cellular department, because even after a two hour class of talking about the principles of transitivity, or equations of value, I am still perpetually distracted by the horrible odour.
So I’ve come today to think of various solutions for my problem:
- Do I just flat out tell the poor girl who barely speaks English that frankly, she’s kind of smelly?
- Do I, being the considerate person I am, take into account the fact that her English is sketchy at best, poke her shoulder, point at her jacket and wave my hand in front of my face with a grimace of conveyance?
- Do I pass her an anonymous note when she gets up to go to the washroom?
- Do I leave her one of my business cards, so that she can come, check out the site and discover the secrets of her jacket in the comfort of her own home?
- Or, do I somehow convey all of my disgust through the universal language of numbers…. Perhaps suggesting that she utilize the following equation on her next assignment:
U=(Pu x Pu)/me=:(
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