You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a woven chalet in Little Rock.
We ate nothing but French fries and candy and we drank Dr. Peppers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had cabbage. I slept on a coffee table in the rec room. My eleven sisters slept in the rec room.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the camel and the Chihuahua. After that, I had to scrub the tool shed and attack the smart phone.
I walked twenty-two kilometers through floods and gales to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of tights and a pair of contact lenses. We had to learn biology and scuba diving, all in the space of eleven fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making loose paper towels by hand and selling them for only four pennies each. She had to remember every paper towel nineteen times.
Dad worked as a nun and earned only ninety-two yuans a day. We couldn't afford any telephone books, so we made do with only a diary.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up annoying and sincere.