Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Earlier this year my depression got very bad, very quickly. I'd been having intrusive suicidal thoughts for a while. It was a combination of a bad medication regimen and lots of little stressorsschool, work, a car accident, you name it. I took to a very private social media account that only those I was closest to could see. I used that account to rant about my problems. It was my coping mechanism and how I kept myself sane. Somehow just typing it out got it off my chest in ways writing in a journal couldn't (now, I try to use Quora for this purpose instead). One night in early March I went to a performance that my friends were part of. I went alone. While I was there, I got a series of texts regarding my girlfriend. I knew that what those texts said would cause me an immense amount of stress and sleepless nights. I went onto my social media account. I don't remember exactly what I posted. It wasn't specific, but rather something along the lines of "I'm stressed, this is the cherry on top, I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle this." Whatever it was, someone who followed that account knew I was at my breaking point. They called an anonymous tip line and reported that they believed I was in danger of killing myself. I got home from the performance at midnight and my dad was in my driveway. I asked him why. He told me he'd been contacted and that someone reported a concern about me. I was admitted to the hospital the next day, and I spent a week an an inpatient psychiatric unit where I received better medication, therapy and coaching on positive coping mechanisms. Whoever called saved me, but in a way I saved my own life that day. What I thought was just another routine post about stress got me the help I so desperately needed. I know without it, I would have ended my own life that day. Funny how that works. Question: What is probably true about the narrator? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- He had a good relationship with his dad.
- He was completely sane and not suicidal.
- not enough information
- He had terrible coping mechanisms.

Answer: He had terrible coping mechanisms.

Problem: OPTIONS:
- with bleach
- with a mop
- not enough information
- with alcohol
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Not as a nurse, but as a patient. I had my appendix removed in about 1970 before keyhole surgery and the surgeon had not properly stitched the inside incision. This meant I was slowly "leaking" blood into the area between my abdominal cavity lining and my skin. I was kept in the hospital for two weeks and every day the same nurse would come along and open the end of the incision in my skin to relieve the pressure caused by the pooling of my blood. That was fine for the first five days, but the weekend came and she was off duty. Apparently, nobody else knew what to do. By Monday morning, I was in agony and when she arrived, she was appalled I had not been drained during the weekend. The other thing that happened during the weekend was the end of the skin incision, which she had opened, had mostly healed meaning there was no convenient hole for the blood to be drained. The nurse used a sharp pair of scissors to reopen one end of the partly-healed incision, but still the blood would not simply drain of its own accord. She used both hands to squeeze downwards onto the swollen blood reservoir. At first, there was no reaction except agonizing pain, but after a few seconds and a very hard squeeze, the stinking, coagulated blood jetted out of the hole she'd made squirting across the ceiling, down the wall and down her full-length coating her face and the front of her uniform. Despite the pain, I couldn't keep myself from laughing loud and long. She then dressed the wound, directed some junior nurses to clean the ceiling and the wall while she went to clean herself. I apologized for laughing the following day when she returned. She told me she appreciated the humor of the situation so there was no "hard feelings." Question: How did the junior nurses clean the ceiling Answer:
Answer: not enough information

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: "Did you ever have one of those days," inquired Julia of her cat, Cecil, who lay in the crook of her arm and was pushing his head into the fingers of Julia's right hand, "when you think you've noticed something everyone else has missed?" Cecil didn't respond directly, but instead rubbed the side of his cheeks against the spine of Gravity's Rainbow which Julia held lopsidedly in her left hand. "Pynchon keeps bleating about the preterit, right?" Cecil, who began licking his paw and washing his face, did not respond. "-and the elect who are out to destroy them, but he's the one who's treating his characters savagely. I mean, how can you go off on God for malpractice when you treat your characters like you treat cockroaches?" Cecil looked at her for a moment, and resumed washing. "OK, listen to this: 'Nobody ever said a day has to be juggled into any kind of sense at day's end.' I can see that. But I don't throw you against the wall and call the universe evil, do I?" Cecil snorted a tiny snort through his nostrils. "But as far as making trying to make sense of everything... I can see that. That's why I wonder sometimes. Like about Uncle Justin," she continued, aware that Cecil was now standing, arching his back, and attempting to find a comfortable position on her stomach, "who was a science teacher for twenty-two years, who gave up everything, just because... you know..." Julia shook her head and returned the book to its level reading elevation. As a matter of interest, Cecil did not know, but was content enough to curl up again, feeling Julia's hand press against his fur, causing his throat to vibrate with greater volume. That is, until the book slipped and roundly thumped Cecil on the head. Question: Cecil was probably washing himself for: Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Several minutes
- Many hours
- 1 week
- not enough information
output:
Several minutes