You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a jagged manor house in Macedonia.
We ate nothing but duck a l'orange and strawberry shortcake and we drank Tom and Jerrys, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had fondue. I slept on a billiard table in the boudoir. My twelve sisters slept in the parlor.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the ostrich and the beagle. After that, I had to scrub the linen closet and reject the feather.
I walked forty steps through sleet storms and drought to get to school every morning, wearing only a stovepipe hat and a blazer. We had to learn plumbing and entomology, all in the space of thirteen eternities.
Mom worked hard, making filthy blankets by hand and selling them for only fifteen ha'pennies each. She had to photograph every blanket twenty-one times.
Dad worked as a computer programmer and earned only sixteen pennies a day. We couldn't afford any saddles, so we made do with only a biscuit.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up puzzled and generous.