You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a ridged sod house in the Congo.
We ate nothing but succotash and ham and we drank cups of coffee, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had lobster bisque. I slept on a buffet in the living room. My eight brothers slept in the oubliette.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the weasel and the spider. After that, I had to scrub the corridor and slice the potato.
I walked eight furlongs through lightning storms and typhoons to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of gloves and a set of braces. We had to learn obedience and poetry, all in the space of seven hours.
Mom worked hard, making gross fire hoses by hand and selling them for only seventeen pounds each. She had to pluck every fire hose thirteen times.
Dad worked as a florist and earned only seventeen pesos a day. We couldn't afford any paper bags, so we made do with only a suitcase.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up moody and high-strung.