Butters (that's the husband) got home late tonight--almost 8:00--and I was getting the kids ready for bed. He stopped me in the hall and demanded to be kissed. I gave him a peck and shrank away--he smelled. Sweat, I think. He immediately insisted he required a 'real' kiss. So I held my breath and gave him one, thinking nothing of it other than the fact that he was really going to need a shower before going to bed.
Ten minutes later I heard him asking my son if he knew what happened twenty years ago today. He didn't (for reasons that will shortly become clear). So Butters asked me if I remembered. I considered a moment and said, "Our first date?" He said, "No, that was twenty years ago yesterday." This immediately baffled me and made me wonder if perhaps I had garbled memories of our first date. (Yikes!)
Five minutes later, I guessed again, "Our first kiss?" And that was the answer. Apparently, Butters didn't get around to kissing me until after midnight. I'm glad one of us remembers all these little sentimental details.