Someone broke into my apartment today.
How do I know? Because my Womba told me.
What’s a Womba?
Sheesh – so many questions. Aren’t you worried if I’m okay?
I’m fine, thanks for the concern. And Womba is the name of my wombat. Here he is – isn’t he adorable? He’s such a stumpy little nugget. He was actually Husband’s childhood wombat, and I adopted him in January 2012 when I was going through my pre and post wedding freak-out.
Around the time of my wedding, I was going through major panic attacks, questioning if I was actually ready to get married. During this time, to make everyone else’s life as stressful as mine (when I say everyone, I mean Husband) I was making these ridiculous demands and generally being an annoying bitch. Maybe subconsciously, I was hoping Husband would realize that he doesn’t want to marry a crazy bitch? Well, that plan was an epic fail.
One of these crazy demands involved me wanting a wombat. I had just returned from attending my good friend AK’s wedding in Sydney in December 2011 and on my flight back to New York, I saw this little guy, fell in love and immediately decided that I would like [Read More…]Read More »