The Downtown Diner

It was spotless and uncluttered. No garbage on the floor, no dust rags on the dashboard, no business cards tucked in any crevasses, no tchotchkes hanging from the rearview mirror. There was a place for everything in that car and everything was in its place.

"My husband should meet this guy!" I was thinking. "He knows how to keep things organized. He has a discerning eye - he keeps the necessary things and throws out the needless complications." My husband, as you have probably guessed, does not have this gift for separating life's necessary wheat from the useless chaff.

I've been hoping to establish a long-term relationship with a cab driver, someone who would be my exclusive driver for the commute to and from work, and I thought maybe I had found *THE ONE*.

"Sure, I can pick you up every morning," he said. We made a date for 7:45am the next morning, in front of my building.

"I just have one request," I said. "The seatbelts in the back seat aren't working. Can you fix them?"

"No," he said firmly. "You need to find another ride tomorrow morning."

Of course!

I was a needless complication, and he was throwing me out.

And my husband's penchant for useless clutter turned into an endearing tolerance for me and my neoroticisms.