It all started one night in February last year.

But let me tell you first that I am married to a gorgeous wife with a fantastic figure, smiling eyes that almost sparkle in the dark, and pouty lips that scream to be kissed. In short, she is ravishingly beautiful. And she is blond.

She is rightfully proud of her blonde hair and she always surprises me with a different hairdo. I have seen her with a cute ponytail, and I have seen her with her blonde hair falling in waves down to her shoulder, I have seen her blonde hair made up into a bouffant style, and many other ways. Her blonde hair glistens when stroked by sunlight and it shimmers magically then candlelight caresses it. And so I am glad that she sets our dinner table complete with a candle in the middle more often than not.

She has an over of planting this and happiness around her. And she has a permanent smile. And she lacks certain communication skills.

Now let's get back to that February night last year.

"Wake up, wake up," my wife kept repeating while she was shaking me out of my well deserved slumber.

"Don't worry," I told her, "the doors are locked and bolted. I have checked and before I went to bed..."

"It's not the doors, Hon. I can't sleep," she informed me.

"So, what do you want me to do about that, I can't make you go to sleep, I'm not a hypnotist" I replied.

"Yes you can. If you would listen to what I am telling you."

"So, what are you telling me?" I was beginning to get a little exasperated.

"Fix it," she said.

"How can I possibly fix your sleep," I questioned.

"Yes, you can," she assured me. You see, my wife has a very positive attitude .

I came back with "you don't really mean that I can fix your sleep?"

"Not my sleep, Silly, the faucet," she finally explained.

"What about the faucet upsets you so much that you can't sleep?" I wondered.

"It's dripping," was her answer. "You got to fix it."

"You want me to get up in the middle of the night to fix a faucet that I don't even hear dripping? - And that's a rhetorical question," I added.

Maybe I was too sarcastic, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but it was too late. I couldn't take it back.

The silence became more and more ominous until I could stand it any longer and I took her in my arms. And as I knew from prior experience, it took less than a minute to have her melt and snuggle tight against me. And two minutes later she was sound asleep.

But I was awake. And then I heard it. A drip, drip, about 10 seconds apart. I tried not to listen, but that did not work. In fact, I believe it only made the sound more acute.

I don't know how long I lay awake before sleep dumped me into the world of dreams. There I watched a plumber at work under the sink, contorted like a pretzel, swearing under his breath about the quality of things in general and faucets in particular. When he was finished he uncontorted himself from under the sink and then handed me a bill for one-hundred-and sixty-six dollars. I grumbled a bit about the size of the bill but there was nothing I could do about it. I went to get my checkbook, but before I could write a check I woke up.

That morning, as we sat at the breakfast table, I told my sweetheart about my dream and that the plumber had charged me $166.

"Gee," she exclaimed. "That's quite a lot of money." She rose and disappeared into the bedroom.

I was still engrossed in my newspaper when she reappeared. I watched my lovely sweetheart waltz up to the table with a big smile.

"I am going shopping," she announced. "You didn't have to pay the plumber and so we are now one-hundred-and sixty-six dollars richer, so you won't mind if I spend a bit of it. And don't worry about the faucet dripping, I turned the handle."

Did I mention that my wife was a Blonde?