(Q).
I have never been a stop-and-smell-the-roses type of person. For me, there's always something that has to be done. In fact, the biggest complaint that my husband and two children have about me is that I'm "always busy." Seventeen years ago, when my oldest son was about a year old, he woke up in a very fussy mood. Instead of being his usual cheerful and compliant self, he just wanted to be cuddled. A mother's dream, right? Well, not for me. There was too much to be done; I didn't have time to hold him. I was well aware that in addition to some projects I was working on, there was laundry to be washed and ironed, breakfast dishes to do, a house that needed cleaning. My usual response would have been to try to coax my son into cheerfulness, or to put him back to bed to sleep it off. But it was clear that he was unwell, so against my usual inclination, I decided that I would just hold him. The chores could wait another day. So I settled into the recliner chair in the lounge room and held my son while he slept. I dozed occasionally too, waking up now and then to enjoy the feeling of snuggling my baby and looking at the world beyond the window. It was a cold day, but clear and sunny. The trees rustled in the gentle breeze, and birds and butterflies flitted about the garden. Inside, my son and I stayed snuggled together under a blanket for most of the day. He slept while I, for one of the few times in my life, just drank in the beauty of the world and the happiness of sharing this time with my son. Better mothers than I am must have done similar things many, many times with their children. But for me, this very small decision, this day of 'laziness', became a treasured memory. Question: How does tauthor feel about herhe Options: - not enough information - Please see my email for question and answers, the text box will not let me remove the autofilled part. I am sending the question and answers through email - Please see my email for question and answers, the text box will not let me remove the autofilled part. I am sending the question and answers through email - Please see my email for question and answers, the text box will not let me remove the autofilled part. I am sending the question and answers through email === The correct answer is
(A).
Please see my email for question and answers, the text box will not let me remove the autofilled part. I am sending the question and answers through email

(Q).
"If you can answer three questions," the dog said, "you can wear the magic shoes." Tommy looked up and down the deserted street. "Did you ... say something?" "That's right. Didn't you hear me?" It was a gruff voice, with just a trace of an English accent, and it was definitely coming out of the dog. "You're a dog." In fact it was a huge, fat bulldog, with big flaps of skin hanging off the sides of its face. From where it sat, on the front steps of the abandoned motel, it looked Tommy straight in the eye. "That's correct," the dog said. Tommy stared hard at the dusty windows of the motel office. "This is a trick, right? There's a TV camera back there and you want to make me look stupid." "No tricks, Tommy. Just three questions." "C'mon," Tommy said. He deepened his voice. "Sit up." The dog stared at him. "Roll over. Play dead." "Cut the crap, Tommy. Do you want the shoes or not?" "Let me see 'em." The dog shifted its weight to one side, revealing a battered pair of red Converse All-Stars. "Yuck," Tommy said. "Those are gross." "Maybe," the dog said, "but they're magic." "What are the questions?" "Which of the following presidents died in office? Lincoln, McKinley, F.D.R.?" "C'mon. They all did. That's the same dumb question they use when they're trying to sell you a free portrait on the telephone." "Which weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead?" "They both weigh a pound. This is stupid. Next you're going to ask me who's buried in Grant's Tomb." The dog narrowed its eyes. "Have you done this before?" "Ulysses S. Grant," Tommy said. "Lemme see the shoes." They were just his size and felt pretty good, even though they were scuffed up and the metal things were gone out of the side vents. "I don't feel any different," Tommy said. "You need the shoes to look for the treasure," the dog said. "What treasure?" "When you're wearing the shoes, you can open the doors of the motel rooms." Question: After the text ends Tommy is probably still Options: - Wearing the red shoes - renting motel rooms - not enough information - rolling over, playing dead and other dog tricks === The correct answer is
(A).
Wearing the red shoes

(Q).
Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Question: At the end of the story, Morzeny: Options: - not enough information - Eats dinner - Walks into his building - Board an airplane === The correct answer is
(A).
Walks into his building