You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a fuzzy mud hut in Hong Kong.
We ate nothing but waffles and lobster bisque and we drank glasses of apricot juice, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had squash blossom soup. I slept on a wooden crate in the master bathroom. My nine brothers slept in the study.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the ant and the cockatiel. After that, I had to scrub the boiler room and wiggle the candy bar.
I walked twelve feet through sleet storms and thunderstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a tailcoat and a corsage. We had to learn Esperanto and home economics, all in the space of fifteen eternities.
Mom worked hard, making rancid cotton balls by hand and selling them for only seventeen crowns each. She had to bend every cotton ball seven times.
Dad worked as a welder and earned only twenty-three farthings a day. We couldn't afford any flash drives, so we made do with only a spittoon.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up brave and merry.