MY 18-year-old daughter recently perfected a new technique to avoid the stress of packing for college.
Her system consisted mostly of lying on her bed and watching me pack for her. That was fine with me, since it was possibly my last opportunity to interfere with her life — and to see what she kept in her drawers — before she left home.
"Do you want to take this empty beer bottle with you?" I asked, gingerly holding it between pincer fingers.
"Get out of my closet," she said.
This is the same daughter, you'll recall, who would not friend Michelle on Facebook, calling her "super creepy" for even trying to have a profile. Hang in there, honey! College is going to be the best thing ever.