You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a damaged palace in Sapporo.
We ate nothing but cinnamon toast and squash blossom soup and we drank shots of whiskey, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had egg drop soup. I slept on a wardrobe in the parlor. My seven brothers slept in the doghouse.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the gerbil and the ghost. After that, I had to scrub the nursery and unfold the air compressor.
I walked six blocks through humid days and tornadoes to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of gloves and a set of scrubs. We had to learn etiquette and biology, all in the space of three decades.
Mom worked hard, making spongy charts by hand and selling them for only seventeen pfennig each. She had to abuse every chart twenty-three times.
Dad worked as an oboist and earned only ninety-one pfennig a day. We couldn't afford any washrags, so we made do with only a bouquet.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up muddled and sketchy.