Hmm, not a question I want to hear.
“What does the light you see look like?”
“I...” She’s driving and has me on speaker.
“It should look like a lamp.”
“A lamp?”
“An oil lamp... or a genie lamp, like in Aladdin?”
“...”
“Pull over and take a photo and text it to me. You shouldn’t be driving with an oil light on, but it’s probably... too late now...”
I hang up. Silence.
I’m running through all scenarios in my brain. I can’t justify a new engine in that thing. Do I just buy another Vibe with high miles for 3 grand? Don’t really have the budget to buy her that nice crossover. She’ll have to drive my car. Oh God, my poor little car...
She calls back.
“Did you get the photos?”
“Still haven’t.”
“I’m gonna be late for work so...”
“WAIT. Does it look like an exclamation mark in the middle of it?”
“Yes.”
“Tire pressure. It’s fine. Love you.”
I hang up and of course then receive four texts with photos.
Wooooooooooooooooo unnecessary anxiety!