You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a crusty house in Laredo.
We ate nothing but Hamburger Helper and chopped liver and we drank tequila sunrises, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had fried chicken. I slept on a piano in the patio. My eleven sisters slept in the master bedroom.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the hornet and the deer. After that, I had to scrub the closet and slam the crate.
I walked thirty-six steps through windy days and thunderstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a bracelet and a stethoscope. We had to learn etiquette and addition, all in the space of seven hours.
Mom worked hard, making polished twigs by hand and selling them for only thirteen pounds each. She had to maintain every twig twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as a reporter and earned only eighty-eight yuans a day. We couldn't afford any forks, so we made do with only a chess set.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up mournful and vacuous.