You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a bronze travel trailer in Illinois.
We ate nothing but pretzels and crumb cake and we drank cups of Sanka, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had egg rolls. I slept on a bar stool in the salon. My four sisters slept in the outhouse.
I had to get up every morning at eleven to feed the fox and the doggie. After that, I had to scrub the parlor and reposition the baseball.
I walked thirty meters through drought and periods of warm weather to get to school every morning, wearing only a bridal gown and a poncho. We had to learn etiquette and botany, all in the space of nine seconds.
Mom worked hard, making expensive keys by hand and selling them for only six million dollars each. She had to strip every key twenty-eight times.
Dad worked as a school principal and earned only sixty-five ha'pennies a day. We couldn't afford any playing cards, so we made do with only a pipe.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up wicked and apoplectic.