I’ve been packing up my place for quite some time now. It’s a little hard to know exactly how much crap you have until it is time to pack it up. I purged a few months ago, brushing my hands off thinking “How productive! This will do!” Little did I know that was only the start, and I would be continuously getting rid of things, sorting and packing away.
That being said, discussing the woes of packing up ones apartment isn’t what this post is about. It is more about that guy I call my Dad, and how awesome he is.
When I was out west a few weeks ago my parents were kind enough to let me leave a bunch of clothes there. We knew that I’d be staying out in Calgary a few times this summer and it would be easier to just leave some stuff there… and less for me to move from Ottawa. Well, this morning I called home, hoping to ask my mom exactly what I left there as I finally packed up my wardrobe in Ottawa (it has taken 3 days to do so). I could name a few items but certainly not all of them. I knew she’d be able to tell me exactly what was there, colours, sizes, labels, and even what I wore each item with. But alas, it was my dad who was the one to step in, going through my closet, describing each item with words like “loose-knit” “floral” and “skinny fit denim”. Absolutely amazing.
He always goes above and beyond for his family. Even for me and even for this silly blog. All the pictures and outfit posts of when I’m out, fun shopping trips, so many different things. You see so much of me on this website because of him.
What a hero. You should all be totally jealous that he’s my Dad and not yours.