You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a smooth wigwam in Washington.
We ate nothing but brownies and smoked salmon and we drank Brandies Alexander, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had chicken chow mein. I slept on a desk in the solarium. My nine brothers slept in the tool shed.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the bear and the Dalmatian. After that, I had to scrub the foyer and smear the package.
I walked two steps through rainstorms and earthquakes to get to school every morning, wearing only a dress and a sweatshirt. We had to learn wood block and government, all in the space of fourteen centuries.
Mom worked hard, making hard suitcases by hand and selling them for only twenty-one half-dollars each. She had to play with every suitcase twenty times.
Dad worked as a balalaika player and earned only seventy-four half-dollars a day. We couldn't afford any pizzas, so we made do with only a drill.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up hirsute and proud.