My husband is a very lucky man. He says he's a licensed electrician, but I know he's in the stress-reduction and bliss-delivery business.  

Five mornings a week, he's out rescuing unfortunate people from the cold and the dark. He also saves people who are miserable from living with ugly light fixtures and inconvenient outlets. He goes out, does whatever-it-is-he-does and, by the end of the day, he's got happy customers whose frowns have turned into smiles of gratitude. He gets thank yous almost every day. Is that fair?

As happy as I am for his good fortune, I've harbored a certain amount of envy over the instant gratification he gets from his work. I mean, in spite of paychecks and raises, how many of us have ever been thanked for the work we do?  

We may write well, nurse, cook, raise kids, negotiate, prosecute, analyse, coordinate and supervise with the best of them, but it's a rainy day in LA before anyone picks up a phone to tell us how much they appreciate our work. Am I right?

That's how it's been for me, at least. 

Until last week. (Click Read More to see the rest of this story)