Shawarma

It's 10:30pm Sunday night and I'm chilling the fuck out watching Grey's Anatomy online and imbibing some quality Australian shiraz. A few minutes ago I started to feel an all-over 'warmth' and momentarily I was confused as to why because I had only had two glasses. The befuddlement dissipated once I glanced over at my Tyrannosaurus Rex wine vessel.

A shawarma sandwich is basically a more civilised version of the kebab. Zahir and Nadya (collectively I shall henceforth refer to them as 'Zan'), my employers, bought me one today, just because they are delicious and they thought I should try one. I just realised that sentence made it sound like I think Zan is delicious. I also received a text message tonight: "thanks for all your help, see you next week". Amazing.

I just worked three days straight for the first time in two months and I'm exhausted. I was sitting on the train on the way home feeling a whole range of things - proud, tired, sore, calm, agog, thankful. Proud because I know I'm doing a good job. Tired and sore because I'm getting on and I have a dodgy ankle and I'm used to doing my work from a comfortable office chair. Calm because I feel like I'm finally blending in here - I even got asked for directions yesterday. I did not know how to help the girl get to Millicent Avenue, but I must have looked like I did. Agog because I'm going to Montreal on Tuesday. Thankful because I found a job where I'm treated like a person, not just an employee. And I like the fact that I can somehow, albeit minute, make a positive impact on someone else's day just by smiling and being polite

Tyrannosaurus Rex is empty. Two final thoughts enter my mind: I need to go to bed and; I hope to fucking God I haven't spelt anything incorrectly in this post.