You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a thick office in Rhode Island.
We ate nothing but hamburgers and pot roast and we drank glasses of Kool-Aid, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had ice cream. I slept on a settee in the hall. My two sisters slept in the outhouse.
I had to get up every morning at eight to feed the dachshund and the elk. After that, I had to scrub the family room and cut the flower.
I walked twenty-five blocks through hot, sunny days and dense fogs to get to school every morning, wearing only a cocktail dress and a birthday suit. We had to learn meteorology and Esperanto, all in the space of five fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making original mops by hand and selling them for only three food stamps each. She had to paint every mop seventeen times.
Dad worked as a cardiologist and earned only ninety shillings a day. We couldn't afford any dead reindeer, so we made do with only a toolbox.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up dreadful and affable.