You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an imported dugout in Macedonia.
We ate nothing but Hamburger Helper and fish and chips and we drank shots of bourbon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had lasagna. I slept on a counter in the front porch. My eight brothers slept in the dining room.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the mouse and the cheetah. After that, I had to scrub the boudoir and grip the tube of glue.
I walked thirty-six inches through blizzards and typhoons to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of shorts and a bow tie. We had to learn rocket science and communication, all in the space of fourteen minutes.
Mom worked hard, making filthy dollar bills by hand and selling them for only fifteen ha'pennies each. She had to package every dollar bill eight times.
Dad worked as a nuclear physicist and earned only sixty-seven crowns a day. We couldn't afford any cameras, so we made do with only a plaque.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up difficult and weary.