Problem:OPTIONS:
- Maine coons
- Persians
- not enough information
- Siamese

In the cosmic scheme of things, this was relatively minor. But very annoying. I had met a woman. Actually, at 19, she was still a girl. I lived in Pittsburgh. She lived in London, Ontario. She was, to put it bluntly, hotter than hell. On top of that, she's one of the sweetest, nicest people you were ever going to meet. Needless to say, I was quite smitten, and quickly arranged to spend a week in London with her. When I showed up, she was wearing very interesting pajamas. At least for a few minutes. Unfortunately, my two cats, who had never spent a night in my home without me being there, were, less than impressed when I didn't show up by 5 PM the day I left, despite having arranged for one of my parents to come over each day to feed them and make sure they had water, etc. Playing with them was optional, but neither would show themselves during that week. Nothing looked amiss on the first floor to Mom or Dad. The food was eaten, the water, apparently drunk, etc. When I got home and went upstairs I found something quite different. There was a trail of toilette paper strewn all over the hallway. My pillow was in the bedroom door and shredded. My alarm clock was on the floor. The power cord had been pulled from the wall and chewed through. There were severaluhmmm "presents" in the middle of the bed, where they had pulled the sheets back. Some of them were still wet. I figure that trip cost me somewhere in the neighborhood of $1k to repair the damage. So I did what any 24 year old would do when faced with that situation. I cleaned up, went to bed, and went back to London a few weeks later. But I cat proofed the house first. (Yes, they still lived with me for another 12 years before passing away.) Like I said, she was wearing very interesting pajamas when I got to London. At least for a few minutes. According to the above context, answer the following question. What kind of cats did the writer have?
****
A: not enough information

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Spilled his drink on it
- It is soaked with rain
- He dropped it in a puddle

Rain, the young man is thinking. Of course it would be raining. Not a heavy, cleansing rain that leaves the streets steaming and the neatly sculptured yards lush and fragrant. This is a gray drizzling rain. A rain that makes him think of places like England and Scotland as they appear in those disturbing late night films on cable, the ones in black and white that weren't particularly memorable when they were made and are even less so now. Still, it rains and the air is cool. All he has to shelter him is a think nylon jacket. The jacket is soaked. It feels both chilly and coarse against his skin. His hair hangs in flat and sodden wings, falling into his eyes. It's long in the back, almost to his shoulders, and he thinks that the cars that pass him on the street, the occupants of those cars, might look at him and see only that he is wet and not that he is dirty as well. Can they tell that his hair has been unwashed for days? That his clothes are the same ones he's worn for more than a week? It doesn't matter. He's invisible to them as soon as they pass, taking any assumptions they might make with them. They might just mistake him for one of those hoity-toity college kids, one of those clean limbed and beaming have's who has happened to find himself caught out without his umbrella. He makes a desultory attempt to straighten his shoulders, to lift his eyes from the buckled sidewalk. To look like he might have a purpose or a destination. It doesn't help. He has become the day. He has internalized the environment. He did that years ago, in fact. That's all I can do. Not his words, of course, but he understands them. He is intimately acquainted with his limitations. According to the above context, answer the following question. Why was the young mans jacket chilly?
****
A: It is soaked with rain

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- She liked people being mean to her.
- She could have made him happy by being miserable
- She could not help someone would did not really want help.

I really struggle to feel bad for people who actively choose to be miserable and manipulative. I'm dorky and like to use little proverbs all the time. One of my favorites is this: "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." At the end of the day, if someone has a problem, they can never resolve it if they don't truly wish to. You can give someone all the resources in the world, but you can't force them to utilize them. When I was 16, I dated a horrible guy. He was abusive verbally, emotionally, and sexually. He was an incredibly troubled young man and refused to seek help for his severe mental health issues. I eventually came to understand that he reveled in his misery. It was his identity. He acted like he wanted a cure and I'd set him up with resources, but he refused every single one. He may have struggled with serious mental illnesses, but being miserable perversely made him happy and he loved to use his struggles to justify his inexcusable behavior. He wanted to drag as many people into his fiery pit of anguish as possible. I later suffered from severe depression myself, and I never once used it as an excuse to hurt other people. My ex wasn't struggling with his mental health in terms of deliberating and carefully harming others. He was simply exhibiting a personality trait, one he chose to cultivate and it wasn't my problem. I ended up cutting him off completely in spite of all the threats. I will never feel bad for the awful plight he refuses to help himself out of. I have no patience for that type of person. Know what we call them? Toxic. Poison. A waste of time. According to the above context, answer the following question. What did the author learn from her abusive relationship?
****
A: She could not help someone would did not really want help.

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- she really loves her daughter
- she feels sorry for herself
- she is ready to die

Relatives of a dying lady I was caring for kicking and screaming not to give their Mum pain relief because they were so terrified / knew it would probably be the thing to end her life. She had a horrible aggressive cancer that ravaged her whole body and needed very regular doses of strong pain relief which - as she had a terminal illness and was receiving end of life care - did not have an upper limit so to speak. She had pain relief as and when needed to make her comfortable and that often results in people ultimately overdosing. Mum had Alzheimer's and was howling and writhing in agony so we were giving her pain relief but daughters knew it would probably result in her death - which they were right about possibly happening and in their grief and panic, started trying to prevent us from doing anything. Didn't want us getting near her at all and we had to go through an awful scenario of trying to explain what we had to do for Mum and why and when they still wouldn't have it or allow us near, we had to do what nobody wants and go against their wishes by administering the pain relief anyway. One daughter screamed the place down, threatened to have me arrested and struck off / said she would go to the papers and tell them about how we killed her Mum and in the end she had to be removed from the bedroom. Her Mum was given the pain relief, immediately relaxed and fell asleep then died peacefully in her sleep about 15 mins later. The saddest thing is her daughter wasn't able to be there and see her Mum dropping off so peacefully and her last memory will forever be of her screaming and thrashing about as she (daughter) was physically removed from the room. Tragic. According to the above context, answer the following question. what is probably true about the mother
****
A:
she really loves her daughter