You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a sophisticated cave in South Carolina.
We ate nothing but country glazed ham and pie a la mode and we drank cups of eggnog, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had fondue. I slept on a cushion in the salon. My three sisters slept in the den.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the wolf and the gazelle. After that, I had to scrub the laundry room and dye the calling card.
I walked twenty-six furlongs through blizzards and hot, sunny days to get to school every morning, wearing only a hearing aid and a pair of overalls. We had to learn French and the alphabet, all in the space of one century.
Mom worked hard, making hand-made acorns by hand and selling them for only sixteen half-dollars each. She had to blacken every acorn twelve times.
Dad worked as a choir director and earned only fifty-one crowns a day. We couldn't afford any fountain pens, so we made do with only a flower.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up creepy and sloppy.