This Is A Closet

The SJG-mobile holds a year's worth of everything a young man may or may not need for his second year of college.  When we arrive, I will introduce him to his closet, and hope their relationship will be a healthy, productive one.  "This is your closet," I will say.  "It is for clothes you tried on and said you liked so we bought them.  Please wear them.  They cost money.  When you're done wearing them, do not crumple them in a ball and leave them on the floor.  Your mother is telepathic.  Even in Sherman Oaks, I will know you're abusing your wardrobe and will call you up, weeping.  Don't do that to me.  This a hanger, for hanging up the nice clothes.  On a regular basis, your nice clothes will get dirty, because God only knows what you've been doing in them or spilled on them in the process.  Whatever it is, don't tell me.  Just please, I beg you, put them in the washing machine located God knows where in this apartment complex.  Make sure you put the clothes in the dryer, too.  Do not put them away wet, as you did last year when you were a freshman.  Remember how they became moldy and disgusting?  Girls don't like boys who smell moldy and disgusting.  Remember that, too."  The SJG has many lessons to pass on before we say goodbye.  Whether he'll be listening while I impart my years of domestic wisdom, is another story.