Problem: OPTIONS:
- money makes the world go around
- money does not make the world go around
- not enough information
- money is evil
Q: I have never had a lot of money. But I don't believe you have to have a lot for it to become burdensome. Money has always seemed to be a burden. Either you have it and the obligation and responsibility becomes a burden (so I've been told, ha) or you don't have it and life without money becomes a burden. I guess money became a burden to me when I started paying my own bills. Let me explain. I raised my 2 girls by myself. I was fortunate to have a good job as an office manager for a doctor in Dallas. I was able to pay my bills and juggle things around to afford what the girls needed for school and what not. When I didn't have money for something they wanted I felt like I carried the world on my shoulders. I didn't let them know how stressful it all was because I felt like it was none of their business. They were kids and needed to be kids. They would soon enough be feeling the stress of managing their own household and shouldn't be asked to help shoulder that burden as kids. Once, me and my youngest daughter, who was an adult at this time, went to a drive in fast food place and got a couple of drinks. My daughter was treating me and when the car hop came to deliver the drinks, my daughter gave her $5.00 as a tip, which was more than the drinks! I, of course, asked why she did that and she told me that they live off their tips and she knew what that was like having been a waitress before. I said something about her needing the money as well and how money makes the world go around. She said "No, Mom, you can be dead-assed broke and the world is still going to go around." That was when I quit letting money be a burden. Question: The daughter believes that: === The answer to the above question is
Answer: money does not make the world go around

Problem:OPTIONS:
- After watching the 10pm drama
- After being with Mrs Mc
- not enough information
- After the holiday in London

Television drama's whole point is to bring you through an often slow start, followed by a complex development to a point where there are two or three potential denouements before, "Cut!", it is the end of the episode and you will have to await the "right answer" in the following week's show. This post came to me at 10pm last night, on Day 16 of this challenge, after a day of holidaying in London and with my head (and feet) too weary to put finger to touchscreen. Mrs Mc and I had just watched another live instalment of Broadchurch, murder mystery extraordinaire, particularly since in the second series there is no actual fresh murder to investigate. The verdict is about to be given on the accused killer from Series 1 when the inevitable happens... Cue title music. This moment has even gained a moniker in British homes, based on the theme tune to the real masters of the four-times-a-week cliffhanger, London-based soap opera Eastenders. It's call a "ba...ba...ba...ba, ba, ba-ba-ba-ba" (YouTube will provide overseas readers with auditory explanation). Eastenders is such a master of writing in the perfect pace that every 28 minute episode ends with a tantalising screen freeze on the latest shocked face / smirking baddy / confused victim. For really big stories the cliffhanger can last significantly longer. This week, to celebrate the show's 30 year birthday, we will finally find out the answer to a question unanswered for the past 14 months: "Who killed Lucy Beale?" Now, most classrooms do not involve murder, incest, dodgy deals and danger, but "good teaching" encourages a type of pacing that totally ignores the ingredients that have millions in the edges of their seats every day: the good old cliffhanger. In fact, we see teachers giving away the punchline at the beginning: "Today we are learning this:..." Question: When was the author feeling tired? === The answer to the above question is
****
A: After the holiday in London

input: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- 1 month
- 1 week
- 1 year Now, answer this question: 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. Question: how long was the man in London? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output:
1 week