Shelter, Missoula, Montana

I adore my husband - and rightly so. Tuesday morning, I went to start my car ten minutes prior to my typical pedal-to-the-metal departure for work. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but: a car, parked - I kid you not - right in front of our driveway, blocking in both our vehicles. Unbelievable, right? So, I stand there in the living room with my wet hair, flailing my arms and ranting: who would do such a thing, especially when there’s an empty full parking length along the curb RIGHT BEHIND THAT CAR, and what if they’re still there when I have to leave in 10 minutes because you know how I am - when it’s time to go, let’s go! Yes, he calmly says, I know how you are; they'll prob'ly be gone in a few minutes. And I rant some more - all this drama encapsulated within a minute, please understand. In my miniscule pause for breathe, TBHE interjects, If they’re still there when you have to leave, I’ll just move their car, since it’s running. 
Oh. Well, that was simple. 
Instant calm, perfect solution. Am I a fortunate one, or what?
We could clone him and be rich.