Doorbell just rang. I’d dropped my wallet – containing my Syrian ID card, Canadian SIN, Syrian and Canadian drivers licenses, dad’s visa, and around a hundred CAD cash – on a street not to far from our building. An old Palestinian man had picked it up, and finding the business card for a local supermarket, went there and asked him if he knew where our family lived. He did and I have my wallet back!!! *da-da-da-DUH*
On this day, I’d like to thank the good Lord for Syrian supermarkets that make house deliveries, kind Palestinian people who return my wallet unmolested, and the fact that the supermarket’s business card was in there. And I’d like to thank the good Lord for making me look good and proving those who doubt mine actions wrong. My family loves to make fun of my habit of picking up business cards. I can now tell them it was foresight all along. Something, as proven by today’s events, I have in abundance =P
On another note, you should have seen my dad’s face when my brother walks back into the living room to inform him that “some old guy” was asking after me. By full name. And before your minds start to wander too far off, he was not hollering “Smeez!!! Get the crowbar from under my mattress while I hold this mofo down!” whilst unbuckling his belt as he made his way over to the door. It was more abject terror, which confused me. Poor Abu Will (that’d be my daddy). He wouldn’t admit it but I know he thought They Who Must Not Be Named were here to drag his daughter off for “official purposes.” Not that they would or should, in my opinion. I’d prefer they didn’t. And besides, I keep my nose (relatively) clean around here.
You, telling it like it is: