We didn’t get the house.
I could cry. It’s the first house in more than two years that I really, really wanted. I even had all the furniture arranged in my head.
Stuff like this makes it tough to concentrate on writing. Maybe I should use it as an excuse to write, so I won’t think about how bummed I am that we didn’t get the house.
Oh, boy. It’s going to be hard to distract myself from this! I think I’ll go poke my lip out and pout for a while. Maybe eat some Doritos. That’s bound to make me feel better.