You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a bent parsonage in Utah.
We ate nothing but chicken gumbo and duck a l'orange and we drank Alka-Seltzers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had fried okra. I slept on a TV in the salon. My eight sisters slept in the ballroom.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the cow and the poodle. After that, I had to scrub the closet and seize the jar of olives.
I walked twenty-one light years through windy days and tornadoes to get to school every morning, wearing only a smartwatch and a ski mask. We had to learn meteorology and veterinary medicine, all in the space of eight blinks of an eye.
Mom worked hard, making ancient plaques by hand and selling them for only two farthings each. She had to hide every plaque thirteen times.
Dad worked as an elevator operator and earned only forty-five dollars a day. We couldn't afford any water bottles, so we made do with only a dog collar.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up considerate and wary.