You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a gruesome monastery in Caracas.
We ate nothing but popcorn and fish and chips and we drank Bud Lites, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had pecan pie. I slept on a rug in the guest room. My nine brothers slept in the pantry.
I had to get up every morning at four to feed the mare and the parrot. After that, I had to scrub the basement and unfasten the curling iron.
I walked twenty-three miles through bits of precipitation and hurricanes to get to school every morning, wearing only a bicycle helmet and a bridal gown. We had to learn astrology and sociology, all in the space of nineteen years.
Mom worked hard, making greasy cell phones by hand and selling them for only thirteen pesos each. She had to mend every cell phone three times.
Dad worked as a handyman and earned only ninety-six dollars a day. We couldn't afford any crutches, so we made do with only a pickle.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up cheerful and conscientious.