You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a crooked mobile home in Bangalore.
We ate nothing but cabbage rolls and tortillas and we drank Seven and Sevens, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had fondue. I slept on an armoire in the front porch. My nine sisters slept in the servant's quarters.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the ladybug and the lark. After that, I had to scrub the pool room and loosen the blanket.
I walked twenty-five yards through blankets of mist and blankets of mist to get to school every morning, wearing only a helmet and a bodysuit. We had to learn astronomy and astrology, all in the space of nine days.
Mom worked hard, making hefty kites by hand and selling them for only nineteen cents each. She had to dust every kite eleven times.
Dad worked as a dermatologist and earned only sixty-five quarters a day. We couldn't afford any Lego sets, so we made do with only a fire hose.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up dismal and fierce.