You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an odd log cabin in Jersey City.
We ate nothing but chicken pot pie and steak and we drank Dr. Peppers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had chicken gumbo. I slept on a stool in the master bathroom. My ten brothers slept in the living room.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the dolphin and the parrot. After that, I had to scrub the nursery and remove the bouquet.
I walked thirty-five inches through gales and sleet storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a belt buckle and a pair of jeans. We had to learn interior design and evolutionary biology, all in the space of five decades.
Mom worked hard, making handy diagrams by hand and selling them for only five dollars each. She had to bleach every diagram four times.
Dad worked as an obstetrician and earned only ninety-five marks a day. We couldn't afford any fire hoses, so we made do with only a teapot.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up amiable and freakish.