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. And she lacks certain communication skills.

"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."

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

"So, what do you want me to do about that," I asked her.

"Fix it," she said.

"How can I possibly fix that," 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.

When I told my wife about that dream she just laughed. But that one-hundred-and sixty-six dollar dream stayed with me like a bad omen.

Finally, as I sat down for breakfast, my dark mood was replaced by happiness as I watched my lovely sweetheart waltz up to the table with a big smile. "I am going shopping," she announced. "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?