Gutted

I wanted to go to the party. I was going to go, all ready and excited. I would think about it and be so excited to meet so many people whose writing I have followed and admired, and then. Oh. I couldn't. I couldn't scrape together enough shiny money, and am finding it difficult to scrape together any energy for anything at the moment. Still, though. I wanted to go. If I could be arsed to stamp my tired feet I would.

Never mind. There will probably be another one, and people are worse off than me, and life could be so much wor...

Oh, I can't.

*Tries to stamp foot, but stops for a sit down halfway through, and doesn't get back up*