Seven

As I typed that title, I realized it was like that bad movie about the seven deadly sins where the guy dies because they make him eat lots of spaghetti. This isn't like that. Yesterday in my math class, there was sheer boredom, followed by sheer hilarity. Here goes. 4:10 Professor starts a proof of a lemma he'd just placed on the board. Half the class immediately puts down their writing utensils because heaven knows we don't actually NEED this information. 4:11 I start writing a letter to Biker Boy. 4:15 There's this nerdy math guy sitting directly in front of me. He's wearing shorts, in November. Now, it was a warm day yesterday, don't get me wrong. I even spent twenty minutes directly before class sitting on a marble bench outside reading. BUT. Still. November. By the time our class gets out, the sun has set!! Sheesh. Okay. So, he's got on shorts. But the kicker is the green fleece he's wearing. With moose sillouhettes on it. Nice. Very Minnesotan. And under the fleece, he's wearing a blue hoodie. But not a navy blue hoodie, that would be silly. It's more like the Detroit Lions blue - not quite aqua, not quite teal, not quite anything - but certainly clashes with the GREEN FLEECE. So, nerdy guy is hitting his head with a closed fist over and over again and sighing heavy, heavy, heavy sighs. I start to giggle. 4:20 Letter to Biker Boy is going along swimmingly. Prof is babbling about finite polynomials and a Taylor series. Huh. 4:22 My eyes start to shut. I have not had a nap today. I lean back in my chair and ask this guy who sits behind me if he has anymore gum. There is a brief moment of flurried activity as he has to go through all three of his bags and his coat pockets before handing me over a packet of Eclipse. As the peppermint spears through my body, I feel energized in a way that no glass of water could ever accomplish. Continue with my letter. 4:40 So, a half hour after the prof starts the proof, it is complete. He says, "that's that! we're done!" I jerk to and decide to pay attention. Letter to Biker Boy complete. 4:41 The professor says, "let's do an example, shall we?" There is a chorus of groans. What were we thinking? That he'd let us out twenty minutes early? We're fools, absolute fools. Prof: Someone give me a smallish number. Class: Absolute silence. Prof: Anyone? Smartass #1: Two. Prof (with more enthusiasm in his voice than ever before): A bit bigger! Smartass #2: Two point five. Prof (still more enthusiasm): An integer! Class (screaming on top of one another): Three! Forty-nine! Seventeen! Sixty! Then, all at once, as if on cue, the entire room falls silent. Prof (confused look on his face): What? Here I start to giggle, muffling it with my lime green scarf. I glance at the guy who gave me gum, who normally laughs with me, and he is staring intently at the prof. Moose Fleece Guy (bored tone, very definite): Seven. Prof: Right! Exactly! Seven! Dead on!! Here the laughter can not be contained. I was doubled over from laughing so hard!! It was like the professor had been waiting for someone to say seven the whole time. If he wanted it to be seven, why didn't he just make it seven!?! Everyone turned to stare at me as I laughed and laughed and laughed. They didn't think it was funny. But I sure as hell did.