Book of June

I have such exciting news: I accidentally bought a Stouffer’s frozen dinner when I got my Lean Cuisines last weekend.

I just discovered it last night when I reached in and grabbed one indifferently. Abra-abra-cadabra. I’m gonna reach out and grab ya. (You are welcome.)

If you’re not an aficionado of the frozen dinners—and oooooo, Miss Fancy Life, over there—comparing a Stouffer’s to a Lean Cuisine is like if you meant to drive through the Hardee’s and you ended up driving through a five-star restaurant. With their many, many drive-thrus.

If five-star restaurants had drive-thrus I’d actually go to them. I hate being trapped in a restaurant for hours on end.

Anyway, I don’t know how I did it. Someone must have selected a Stouffer’s, had a change of heart, then shoved it in with the Leans or something. I wonder if I got it as one of the 5 for $5? That’d be like winning the lottery.

It was a fish with macaroni and cheese. It was magnificent.

This all may sound depressing to you, but I squealed when I pulled it out. So to speak. The reason I don’t normally buy Stouffer’s dinners is they’re about 479,000 calories apiece and approx. 407% of your daily sodium. And if I’m anything at all, it’s a health nut.

So that was exciting, and I know you’re in it with me, and you’ll likely tell the kids and so on. We might have to mark yesterday on the calendar. “Accidentally had Stouffer’s frozen dinner day.”

In other news, after 692 calls with the animal shelter, my black foster kitten was repaired and ready for pickup. It was the alternator.

No. They think he just has parasites. They tested him for everything, and he’s got nothing wrong–they didn’t even find parasites, but usually these shelter kittens have a parasite or two, and he’s been on a deworming schedule so he should get better soon, they think.

I agreed to come get him after work. The shelter closes at 6:00. I had plans at 7:00. So, as 5:00 neared, I began gathering my things and my thoughts and my troops, when

RING!

the phone rang at my desk, and it was about some work I was doing for our Dallas office, and after I bought all the oil and wrangled cattle, I hung up and started getting ready to

RING! Another work call. I can go months without my desk phone ringing. Yesterday it was The Ring.

I finally got out of there, and traffic was dick, and I barely got there by 5:45. Then?

The shelter Mrs. Butterworthed the situation. Oh my god, they were taking their own sweet time, and they were discussing something with this pink-haired woman who must have FELT my impatience, but did she care? She did not. And they were DONE with their conversation. They just kept saying the same things over and over, in different iterations. It was like,

Stouffer’s frozen dinners are better.

In summation, Stouffer’s dinners are good.

When you’re looking for a superior frozen dinner, try Stouffer’s.

You know what’s good? Stou–OH MY GOD HURRY UP.

Finally, they gave him to me, and I said, “So are we good?” and the woman at the front desk said, “Oh, hang on.”

Then she methodically and Mrs. Butterworthly printed out a bunch of paperwork.

“When you foster for the animal shelter, you…”

OH

MY

GOD.

“I’ve been fostering for the shelter since 2017,” I said. “And this is the fourth time I’ve been here with this kitten.”

“…Oh! Well, no one told me that.”

I’ve seen that woman approximately 479 times. I’ve seen her as much as there is sodium in a Stouffer’s frozen dinner. Middle-aged women are invisible.

Anyway, now he’s here, the little black kitten is, and I cannot, 100% cannot, capture him on film because all he does is run about frenetically.

These are seriously the best photos I’ve gotten. He’s a black blur.

Which is good, right? He must feel better. He’s in a little run-aroundy phase.

Anyway, that’s all my news. I have to go to work and work on all the things I didn’t get done yesterday, and come home at lunch and feed the black blur, and then come home and feed him again and toss Blu for Crippled Hips maybe 18 times instead of 234583042024, and then I’ll wonder, Why am I so tired? Edsel’s hips will say the same. (We go to the vet next Saturday.)

After all that Mrs. Butterworth/Milhous-as-butter talk, now I kind of want waffles. I wonder if Stouffer’s makes a good frozen one?

Honest to god not being paid by Stouffer’s,
June