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The Things We Can't Control

My husband and I have a fundamental disagreement about the little gas icon that pops up on the dashboard when you are running low on gas. He sees it as a recommendation to get to a gas station and fill up – at some point, in the near future – but only when it is convenient. I see it as a flashing, migraine-causing light – an urgent request, a fire to be quenched. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle, like is so often the case. On Friday afternoon I happened to be driving when I noticed that my gas gauge was near to empty. "I am going to stop at the gas station," I announced, "before the little light comes on." "You have plenty left," my husband retorted, "we could drive another hund





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