“I have come from 1983 to snuggle you!” he declared, pouncing into my relaxing evening.
“Get away from me,” I laughed, trying to push him away as he cuddled me.
“No! The fate of the world rests on snuggles!”
“‘Come from 1983?’” I echoed, still half amused, half annoyed. “Don’t make it sound like you used some kind of time travel device; you got here from 1983 just like me: seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days,...” I continued, but my logic was drowned by hugs and laughter.
On this day in history in 1983, my husband was born. Apparently, it was so that he could snuggle me.
Happy birthday, Snugglehusband.