Here in Katie’s Head

Dear critter in my ceiling,

Get out. Please. You wake me up with your scurrying noises. This is only the second time, but three strikes and I call the maintenance guys.

You sound small, so I’m guessing you’re a squirrel. If I buy you some nuts and put them on my balcony, will you promise to stay out of my ceiling?

Walnuts? Pecans? I know peanuts aren’t good for squirrels, but I’m pretty sure they don’t sell bags of acorns at Dillons.

Love,

Katie

Posted: 10:52 am · Category: Apartment, Letters · Comments: 1

I was going to post about the terrible news, but Denise beat me to the punch. So, what she said.

But with more Dillons store nicknames.

The 13th and Waco location is commonly known as The International Dillons, but it will always be El Dilonso to me. The Lincoln and Hydraulic location is commonly known as The BTK Dillons, but it will always be Timewarp Dillons to me because it has not changed one bit since I shopped there with my mom when I was little.

At least we don’t have to suffer the ridiculously named and notoriously sucky Homeland stores anymore. Who in their right mind would name a grocery store Homeland?

Posted: 10:11 pm · Category: Consumerism, Wichita · Comments: None

Dear Wichita drivers,

There was a blizzard today, the snow plows were MIA, but we had stuff to get done. So many of us hit the roads.

We are notorious for being bad drivers, but FUCKING HELL, MUST YOU ALWAYS JUMP AT THE CHANCE TO REINFORCE A STEREOTYPE?

Yeah, I was out on the roads. But I know how fast to drive during a snow storm (slower than your dead grandma) and how close to follow other cars (if you see other cars, you are too close).

The rest of you (especially douchebags in trucks who don’t have the patience for those of us without four-wheel drive, and also the Riverside asshole tailing me on the way home), need a refresher course in Kansas driving laws.

First, the Kansas Basic Speed Law:

Kansas speed regulations start with the basic rule that the speed of a vehicle has to be reasonable and prudent for existing conditions. Even when the posted speed limit is 70 mph, it may be safe to go 45 mph due to heavy rain, snow, ice, or blowing dust.

Second, following distance:

Kansas law requires drivers to follow other vehicles at a reasonable and prudent distance, taking into consideration the speed of the vehicles and condition of the roadway.

Four of every 10 crashes involve rear-end collisions, usually because someone is following too closely (tailgating). Leave enough room between your vehicle and the one ahead so you can stop safely if the other vehicle stops suddenly.

Brake early and gently when preparing to stop or turn. It gives drivers behind you plenty of warning that you are slowing down. Be aware of space on either side of you, too, in case you have to change lanes quickly or pull over to avoid a hazard. If possible, leave yourself some escape room to your left and right.

And if you can’t understand or remember all of that, if you ever find yourself on a snow-packed road behind a silver Saturn with an Apple logo sticker in the back window going 20 mph, BACK THE FUCK OFF.

Lividly yours,

Katie

Posted: 11:44 pm · Category: Weather, Wichita · Comments: 1

[I first drafted this entry back in August. I thought the second-to-last night of NaBloPoMo was a good occasion to revisit my draft and finish it off.]

A few months back a friend and sometimes-columnist asked me how many dateable guys I thought there were in Wichita.

My answer got edited out of her column. But I said 5. Because I’d decided to be a little pickier than in the past. Because I’d written off all the following categories:

1. Guys who are age inappropriate in either direction
2. Unemployed guys
3. Guys who have personality disorders
4. Guys who don’t get my sense of humor and are completely oblivious to the lightheartedness in posts like this
5. Wichitards (which is, of course, hypocritical; also, see #4)

So I had this brilliant idea: Move to greener (younger, hipper) pastures.

But I wasn’t in a huge rush because (a) being single for a more than a few months for the first time since I was 17 was actually pretty awesome and (b) I am paranoid that I can’t write for shit when I’m in a relationship.

And then a nice guy asked me out. Over email, in fact. Some guy who’d been commenting on my blog for years. And I ran over and told my columnist friend and she thought I was a freak for considering it. I told her I had nothing to lose, and if nothing else it was blog fodder. (This is how she and I excuse all questionable dating practices.) She accepted it once I framed it that way.

So he and I went out for dinner and ended up sitting and talking for a few hours without a single awkward pause. And I recited to myself, “But I don’t want a boyfriend right now.”

And we went on a few more dates and they were great too. And I recited to myself, “But I don’t want a boyfriend right now.”

I convinced myself that he was too nice for me. Inevitably I would break his heart because I am not so nice. And I kept reciting to myself, “Next time I will tell him that this isn’t going to go anywhere.”

But it was nice to spend time with someone kind and interesting who was going through a lot of the same early career issues that I was. Someone both fun and grounded. So I consented to another date. And another.

At last, someone who’s not the kind of guy who’ll IM me drunk after months of silence, cry about how things are going with his druggie stripper girlfriend and tell me I was the best sex he’d ever had. (We had sex?) I was done with the “artistic” (pothead) type. And now I was faced with this guy who was the anti-jerk, who was exactly what I want, yet I was fighting the impulse to cover my eyes and ears and wait for someone more destructive to come along.

All at once — in the middle of a late night discussion about what the hell we were doing — I realized I was being a colossal wuss.

Being someone’s girlfriend did not have to carry all the baggage I was projecting onto the title of “girlfriend.” Not every relationship needs to involve exchanging “I love you”s within two weeks of the first date. Not every relationship has to start with true love forever. Maybe it could start with a simmer and take some time to reach a boil, instead of starting at a boil and quickly boiling over.

So I explained my fears and cautiously donned my girlfriend badge.

I quit telling myself that I wasn’t going to truly fall for him and that I’d soon start to feel smothered and freak out and leave. No, instead I lowered my guard and — thwack! — found myself lovestruck.

And now I walk around with this stupid grin all the time.

Meanwhile, columnist friend has found her own dateable guy who leaves her with a stupid grin. That leaves three left for the rest of Wichita. Good luck, ladies.

Posted: 11:08 pm · Category: Kyle, Wichita · Comments: 4

Within the last few months, I discovered that my desire/ability to clean the house is proportional to my proximity to other people.

This is why my apartment is usually a mess, but if I go over to my parents’ (quite clean) house, I’ll compulsively start washing dishes and wiping down the inside of the microwave.

This gives me confidence that, while I’ve swept the kitchen only once since I moved in at the end of July, when I do eventually move in with someone, I’ll be able to keep things tidy enough to be a tolerable housemate.

That’s the theory anyway.

Posted: 11:08 pm · Category: Apartment · Comments: None

I woke up this morning, tense from a dream where I’d been summoned with a “Katie, let’s talk” by a super-scary editor at work. And then when I was actually at work, I found a few more things to angst over (alas, super-scary editor is not just a figment of my dreams). And then I came home and sought comfort food to soothe my nervous tummy. It only made it worse.

So I threw off my work clothes and hid under a pile of blankets on the couch. Yay, Heroes and Journeyman.

When I was ready to write the day off as a prime example of Monday suckitude, I heard a meowing in the hallway. Looking through the peephole, I saw no one. I heard J, my across-the-hall neighbor, on her cellphone as she carried her laundry downstairs. And still more meowing.

I opened the door a crack, looked down and there was the cutest, tiniest kitten ever. As soon as I touched her she started purring. I let her in so I could put some pants on before going downstairs to find out if J had recently acquired a kitten.

This kitty was not timid at all. She immediately started exploring the apartment. Meow, meow, purr, purr.

Just before opening my door again, I considered that maybe I could just keep the cat. Maybe supernatural forces had sent her to me to make me forget about all the things that make me cranky. Who can stress out when they’ve got half a pound of fur nuzzling against them? Not Katie.

When I got downstairs, J rolled her eyes when she saw the kitten in my arms. Apparently Mary Jane (what the hell kind of cat name is that?) is a bit of an escape artist. But Mary Jane is also a foster kitten, available for adoption when she’s old enough (i.e. big enough to be spayed).

I very nearly got a cat a couple months ago. I decided against it for all kinds of good reasons.

But, oh, that little kitty loves me.

I would have to rename her though. I’m thinking Bowser.

Posted: 10:19 pm · Category: Apartment · Comments: 1

Kyle and I went to the zoo yesterday.

I’ve watched enough episodes of Meerkat Manor to know the Sedgwick County Zoo’s meerkats look nothing like real meerkats. Real meerkats are skinny. Zoo meerkats look like they’ve been dining at China Buffet.

But the animals at the zoo have nothing on the kids visiting the zoo. What the hell is wrong with parents these days?

I’d read statistics recently on the percentage of overweight and obese Kansans, and I’d been how it’s possible that 23% (!) of Kansans are obese because most people I see…aren’t. Well, that 23% was well-represented at the zoo yesterday.

I don’t know that there’s anything more heartbreaking and disgusting than seeing an obese eight-year-old. I remember begging for Little Debbies and ice cream when I was little, but my mom usually said no. This kid doesn’t need a sno-cone, doesn’t need Blue Bunny, doesn’t need a Coke.

And I understand that you want to indulge your child and see him happy, but it’s pathetic when a little kid walks over to a park bench, wheezing and begging for a break. If you told him no more often, he’d be able to make it through the zoo without getting winded. And he doesn’t have the impulse control, critical-thinking skills or long-term planning to realize that he doesn’t need a Drumstick right now. So freaking tell him no.

Rant aside, the zoo was lovely.

Posted: 7:17 pm · Category: Rants, Wichita · Comments: 3