So what could be worse than
Lying on a hard, rickety bed
Squashed between wall and mother
With sweat travelling down your forehead?

And counting the blades of the fan
At its maximum speed, lazily tumbling,
Planning your mighty escape, because
Surely the termites were going to bring down that ceiling?

Spotting a lizard - expertly camouflaged - staring down at you from its abode - right at you - probably thinking to itself - "Oh cool, she'll catch me if I fall"

Yes, that's what's worse.