Burrows

If I were a hedgehog and had a small burrow, I would wad my chubby little self into a prickly hedgehog ball and roll my way down to the bottom of the tunnel. There I would snuggle into the earthen floor and slumber in sweet oblivion. For if I were a hedgehog, I would have no opposable thumbs. If I had no thumbs I would not have to scrub my renovated townhome from top to bottom with a toothbrush. I would not have to consult with th new renters about what color of drapes they would prefer. I would not have to ride herd on my three children. I would not have to drive Cass to the Urologist this afternoon and then go downstairs to have Loren’s infected toe lanced, drained and stitched back up.
If I led the life of a hedgehog I could waddle about the forest floor foraging for berries and acorns, eat my fill and return to my burrow. Sounds like nirvana.