why my husband is the sweetest man alive

So, last night, I'm working the closing shift at Starbucks.  It's snowing.

We had just locked the store so we could finish cleaning, counting drawers, etc... and we see two sets of headlights shining through the windows.  We rolled our eyes because it's obnoxious when people try to get in when we're already closed.  The cars sit there a while.

I take a closer look: it's my husband (in gym shorts) heating up my car and scraping the windshield for me.  My coworker (a guy) turns to me and says, "Well, that is literally the sweetest thing I've ever seen.  What a great guy, geez."

Adorable, right?  Just wait - it gets better.

I arrive back at our flat, where Kevin has prepared me dinner.  He ushers me to the couch, where he has my favorite book sitting next to a bottle of my favorite pinot grigio.  A playlist of Michael Buble, John Mayer, and Air Supply was on softly.

So very, very sweet.

Then, he prepared a foot bath.  My feet soaked while I read my favorite book, sipped wine, and ate popcorn (because he knows and loves me that much), and while he kept the pup occupied in the other room, I got my relaxation on.

But, guess what, there's even more.

He gave me a pedicure.  He literally scrubbed my feet.

He didn't even know what a pedicure was, apparently, and had to be told by the ladies at Bath and Body Works (where he bought all the lavender- and vanilla-scented goodness).  He did this for me.  Out of the blue.  For absolutely no reason whatsoever.  It was a Thursday night, for goodness' sake!

And THIS is why my husband is the sweetest man alive.