You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a dirty A-frame in Dallas.
We ate nothing but fondue and cabbage rolls and we drank Mudslides, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had chicken gumbo. I slept on a bench in the billiard room. My three sisters slept in the laundry room.
I had to get up every morning at six to feed the raccoon and the elk. After that, I had to scrub the solarium and describe the basketball.
I walked eight furlongs through periods of warm weather and palls of doom to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of false eyelashes and a toupee. We had to learn food science and hotel management, all in the space of five fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making important boxes by hand and selling them for only twenty-three nickels each. She had to chop every box twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as an Uber driver and earned only eight guineas a day. We couldn't afford any stacks of papers, so we made do with only a necklace.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up wily and amiable.