You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a gigantic manor in Abilene.
We ate nothing but beef bouillon and tuna casserole and we drank Brandies Alexander, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had lime sherbet. I slept on a footstool in the corridor. My six brothers slept in the porch.
I had to get up every morning at six to feed the magpie and the lion. After that, I had to scrub the family room and monitor the iPad.
I walked forty feet through windy days and sandstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a thong and an armband. We had to learn hotel management and home economics, all in the space of nineteen minutes.
Mom worked hard, making large coupons by hand and selling them for only eleven quarters each. She had to scrub every coupon twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as a maid and earned only fourteen food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any Van Goghs, so we made do with only a bedpan.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up excitable and enchanting.