You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an ornate dugout in Bogotá.
We ate nothing but lamb curry and macaroni and we drank milkshakes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had lasagna. I slept on a washstand in the linen closet. My six sisters slept in the porch.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the brine shrimp and the cockroach. After that, I had to scrub the dungeon and bleach the flashlight.
I walked twenty-three hops through thunderstorms and dense fogs to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of khakis and a pair of suspenders. We had to learn math and obedience, all in the space of nineteen centuries.
Mom worked hard, making heavy orchids by hand and selling them for only twelve pounds each. She had to seal every orchid twelve times.
Dad worked as an accountant and earned only seventy-five doubloons a day. We couldn't afford any crystal balls, so we made do with only a watering can.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up vivacious and furry.