Size 13 was what I wore until I met Tom. And a 36B bra. Nice, healthy curves. Now I wear a bra that looks like a swimming cap for Siamese twins and size 24 pants.

Sigh. I was having a lovely day reading and trying to nap (no go, so I read through about two inches of magazines instead).

Then Tom whistled me downstairs about a half hour before I would have come down to fix supper. He needed a couple things done -- no prob. But...he turned on the downstairs hall lights (2 recessed lights and a cannister lamp). He KNEW the switch is faulty (we discussed it on Thursday when the lights were fixed by the handyman...and again yesterday) and I didn't want to use it until I got an electrician in to fix it. Now I can't turn it off. Unless I fiddle with it enough to get it to shut off, it will leave him with the lights on overnight while he's trying to sleep and me nervous because, well, the switch IS faulty!

I just wish every time I come downstairs or into the house it isn't to some sort of small crisis.

On the stress level I guess it's one step forward and, if not two, then at least one step back. Wish me luck on turning the #@%# switch off.

Linn