I woke at dawn when Digger climbed over me to get out of bed, and I woke again an hour later when Pa called, "Everyone up who wants breakfast!" Across the room, Little Bit was dressing in a T-shirt and jeans that had been mine a year before. Ma had put a stack of clean clothes at the foot of the bed for me. I dressed without caring what I put on. The only important items were my cowboy boots and my Roy Rogers belt with two holsters for cap guns, even though I only had one cap gun left, and its trigger was broken. When I used the toilet, I sat on the front edge of the seat, watching the water beneath me, and scooted off as soon as I was done. I had seen a cartoon in a book at Grandpa Abner's that showed a fish leaping out of a toilet bowl and a woman staring at it with big eyes. I thought that was funny and I knew it was impossible, but I didn't think there was any reason to take chances. Ma called, "Little Bit has to use the bathroom." I yelled, "I'm almost done." Ma called, "Are you off the toilet?" I yelled, "Yes!" Ma opened the door and brought Little Bit in. Squeezing toothpaste onto my toothbrush, I said, "I wasn't done yet." Ma said, "Your father's making breakfast in the restaurant." That meant we should hurry, so I slid the brush over my teeth while Little Bit sat next to the sink, and then I ran out of the house. Stepping into the sunlight was stepping into Florida. I didn't smell oranges -- Ma had explained that oranges grew further south -- but I smelled a humid pinelands that was not like the New Orleans suburb I had known. Question: Who needed to hurry in the bathroom? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- The narrator and Digger.
- Little Bit and Digger.
- not enough information
- The narrator and Little Bit.

Answer: The narrator and Little Bit.

Problem: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- They think that the kit was a waste of money
- They wish they had bought a kit for other disasters
- They wish they were prepared sooner
Q: Being prepared for the unknown is something most people know we should do, but the majority of us don't take time to actually do it! We have lived in a state prone to hurricanes for eight years and didn't really have anything ready in case of a natural disaster. Recently, we moved closer to the coast in this region which forced us to make a hurricane emergency kit. If you don't feel like putting together your own kit, you can order one from Amazon! Here's an affiliate link to one that's for four people. (Four Person Perfect Survival Kit Deluxe) They have several variations to choose from. Preparing a Hurricane Emergency Kit I will walk you through a few things to consider when preparing an emergency kit. Saving Money I would be lying if I didn't say that I was financially driven to prepare a kit. The state of Virginia has one three-day sales tax holiday weekend beginning the first Friday in August. Yes, saving on tax pushed me to buy a bunch of stuff that I just may need one day. In addition to saving taxes on emergency preparedness items, customers can save tax on clothing, footwear, school supplies, and Energy Star and WaterSense products. For complete details on qualifying items and more, please go to Virginia's Government Tax Page. Not in Virginia? Search "your state" + "emergency preparedness" or "emergency kit." You can replace "hurricane" with "earthquake" or "tornado" or any other applicable term for your area. Depending on how much you purchase, the saving on taxes can add up pretty quickly. Be Prepared Before Preparing Heading out on a tax-free shopping spree won't save you much money if you're buying items that don't qualify for the tax-free holiday, or you buy a bunch of items you don't actually need or won't use. The National Hurricane Center offers supply lists and emergency plans, along with a ton of resources to help you gain focus. Question: What does the narrator probably think about their previous unpreparedness? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: They wish they were prepared sooner

input with options: November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." Question: The stranger believes that: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- the fiddler is dead
- there is no fiddler
- the fiddler is alive
- not enough information
output:
the fiddler is dead