DEAR ABBY: If this letter can save one person's life, it will be well worth it.

I was experiencing headaches for quite a long time, and my husband was sleeping in his chair quite a bit of the time. The day of our grandson's birthday last November, I could hardly think because my head hurt so bad. In spite of it, I drove to the party and started to feel better. I told our son about my headache, and he said he would check our furnace for us.

Because our furnace was quite new, we never gave it much thought. The automatic damper was shut, and the furnace was emitting carbon monoxide fumes!

Our beautiful kitty, Yvette, had died some time before, and we never knew why. However, she had slept in the furnace room.

I always opened the window at night, and we have a large home, so this is probably what saved us.

I hope you'll alert your readers to have their furnaces checked -- even if they're new. I cannot stress enough the importance of this. -- PATRICIA IN PORTLAND, ORE.

DEAR PATRICIA: Your letter gives new meaning to the phrase "wake up and smell the coffee." Carbon monoxide is a deadly killer, and every year the news reports deaths because of improperly vented heaters. Having one's furnace checked in the fall, before the cold weather hits, is a wise precaution. Since the winter season is now upon us, I hope my readers will heed this warning immediately.

DEAR ABBY: I'm a 37-year-old mother of three. Until recently, I had a wonderful relationship with my mother. She's a beautiful lady who adopted me when I was 5. Mother is a teacher, author and political activist.

However, as she begins her 82nd year, our relationship has taken a nosedive. For years, she has been strong-willed about discussing her political views at every gathering and conversation. Guests have literally run out of the house after being badgered by her, and quake at the thought of visiting us. I finally gathered enough courage to tell Mom that her outspokenness was embarrassing me and my friends.

My reprimand worked for about a year. However, during the past three months she has been avoiding me. She refused to attend the family holiday parties and asked to see my children without me. She flatly states that my demand that she stop talking politics all the time is "unfair."

Her behavior is startling to me, and I'm unsure how to handle it. I hope you'll have some insight on how I can mend this fence. -- PUZZLED IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

DEAR PUZZLED: Given her professional background and her age, I'm sure your mother feels that the world wants her opinions. She's punishing you for not being receptive to her ideas. You aren't going to succeed in "muzzling" your mother, so apologize. Be grateful that she cares enough to have a viewpoint -- and tease her about it if she becomes a bore.

Everybody has a problem. What's yours? Get it off your chest by writing to Dear Abby, P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, Calif. 90069. For a personal reply, please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope.

DEAR ABBY: I have been married for four years, and we have a 2-year-old son. My marriage is happy except for one problem. I can't get my husband to remember important dates.

He has forgotten our anniversary and my birthday for the last three years. He never remembers Mother's Day. However, he always remembers our son's birthday and Father's Day.

Abby, my parents think this lapse of memory is terrible, but his parents don't remember special days either. Any suggestions? -- ROSELESS ROSIE

DEAR ROSIE: Men are notorious for forgetting days that are important to women. Your husband's disregard for your anniversary and birthday may stem from his parents' attitude about special days. Since he was not raised to remember them, he doesn't understand the importance you attach to these occasions.

Remind, remind, remind him. About two weeks before your birthday and your anniversary, remind him it's approaching. A week before the big day, remind him again. The day before, give him a note, and post one on the refrigerator or the bathroom mirror.

If your husband still fails you, buy yourself a gift, charge it to him, and tell him what you did.

Since your marriage is happy in every other way, consider yourself a lucky woman. His faults could be worse, so don't sweat the small stuff.

DEAR ABBY: I am a 37-year-old woman who works in a hospital linen room. One day I noticed a man on a ladder doing repairs. I was mesmerized in an instant by his smile. Every time I see him, I get butterflies.

I wrote him a note and asked a co-worker to deliver it. I got no response. I summoned my courage and handed him a second note myself. Still no response. Finally, I asked him directly if he had read it. His only comment was, "Nice penmanship."

Rumor has it that he's seeing someone. So why isn't he man enough to just tell me he is not interested? What can I do to get a response, either positive or negative? -- WAITING IN ARLINGTON, TEXAS

DEAR WAITING: You have already received a response. He isn't interested. Accept reality and leave the man alone.

DEAR ABBY: Once again you have allowed a reader to euphemistically refer to someone in her little melodrama as "Bill."

Do you have any idea how much trouble this has caused me over the years with your moronic readers who believe that all these "Bills" are in fact me? Even when I'm able to convince them that that "Bill" is not this Bill, my explanations are time-consuming and mentally taxing. And after just so long, my alibis are no longer believed by some of these imbeciles, and I end up not only having to apologize for the behavior of the phantom Bill, but to apologize as well for having initially denied it was me!

Abby, thinking up enough good lies about my own atrocious behavior is something I can barely keep up with as it is. Will you please stop adding to this burden? Why not use the name of my brother, "Bob," instead? He gets away with a lot. -- BILL B. IN MELBOURNE, FLA.

DEAR BILL B.: I'll make a deal with you. If you promise to stop calling my readers moronic and imbecilic, I'll refrain for one year from labeling any character in my column as "Bill." And if I break that promise, you can bill me!

Good advice for everyone -- teens to seniors -- is in "The Anger in All of Us and How to Deal With It." To order, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Anger Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: I have loved and read you forever, but your answer to the woman whose husband doesn't drive was, in my opinion, irrational. When I get behind the wheel of a car, my throat is dry, my heart pounds, my hands and feet perspire. I do not belong out there killing myself or a car full of kids. Do you want me beside you on the road, Dear Abby? I think not! -- "DOLL," ORANGE, CALIF.

DEAR DOLL: (What a wonderful name!) That would depend upon whether you had successfully completed a driving class, and you were licensed to drive beside me on the road. Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," which in your case I would interpret to mean that your fear of driving is more paralyzing than the reality of what you might encounter on the road. There are therapy and medication available, Doll, that will make your symptoms vanish.

You are not the only reader who took me to task for my answer. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: I must disagree with your advice to "Driven Crazy" regarding her husband's seeming fear of driving. You were correct that he should consult a doctor. Better than an M.D. would be an optometrist. He may have a problem with depth perception. I am well acquainted with this, as I suffer from it, too, and do not drive.

If that is his problem, he should be commended for not driving. It can be a hard decision to say, "I don't want to drive because I don't want to put myself and others at risk."

His wife should remember that driving is a privilege, not a right, and some people simply choose, for their own reasons, not to exercise that privilege. Our roads would be a lot safer if more people did that. Our transit systems get me to and from everywhere I need to go. -- JEANNE L., SANTA ROSA, CALIF.

DEAR JEANNE: I agree that our roads would be safer if incompetent drivers would choose not to get behind the wheel. However, the husband of the woman whose letter I printed had successfully completed a driver's education class and had a driver's license. In order to get a driver's license, one must pass an eye examination that tests depth perception. His problem was emotional, not physical. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: May I make a suggestion to "Driven Crazy," whose husband is afraid to drive? I taught both my children, and one foreign friend who was also frightened at the prospect, to drive with confidence in crazy California using a simple technique:

Wake up before dawn and practice where there are no other cars on the road. When a novice driver isn't worried about what other vehicles might do, he or she can concentrate on skills like getting on and off the freeway, parking in tight spots, making U-turns, changing lanes and so forth.

Start on the weekends, when traffic is low, and let the driver set the pace. As he or she gains confidence, drive later in the day as traffic increases. In a few months, your driver will be ready to take on any traffic jam, which is actually the easiest driving yet: The cars just sit there. -- OUT OF A JAM IN TUSTIN, CALIF.

DEAR OUT OF A JAM: You could be right. I admire your optimism.

To receive a collection of Abby's most memorable -- and most frequently requested -- poems and essays, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby's "Keepers," P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)