You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a dry studio in Madison.
We ate nothing but lamb curry and oyster on the half-shell and we drank glasses of lemonade, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had bonbons. I slept on a computer in the bedroom. My eleven brothers slept in the outhouse.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the bumblebee and the goldfish. After that, I had to scrub the kitchen and remove the fish bowl.
I walked thirty-two feet through driving rainstorms and thunderstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of earmuffs and a miniskirt. We had to learn physiology and archaeology, all in the space of thirteen lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making authentic cookbooks by hand and selling them for only twenty-three stock options each. She had to vacuum every cookbook twelve times.
Dad worked as a magistrate and earned only seventy-eight guineas a day. We couldn't afford any flash drives, so we made do with only a magazine.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up haughty and prissy.