Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Valentine's Day sucks. Which may sound odd coming from someone who ceaselessly praises love and sex, but it is true. I am not a fan. My mother and father were married in a small Baptist Church on Valentine's Day in 1959. They are no longer together. They are still technically married but my father now lives in a residential care home for dementia patients and my mother lives alone. My father's disease makes him angry and aggressive leaving my mother with blurred and fading memories of his kindness. It is a sad day for all those whose partners are transformed into strangers by illnesses. Some things aren't fair. It is my step(ish) daughter's birthday on Valentine's Day (I am not married to my boyfriend so I can't claim to be a step-mum and there is no other term for it). The end of my boyfriend's marriage has put continents between him and his children. When he hangs up the phone after talking to his daughter, his eyes are dark with pain. It is a sad day for all those whose love is diluted by oceans. Some things can't be changed. I remember the last Valentine's Day I spent with my ex-husband. I was a couple of weeks away from moving out but I hadn't told him yet. I felt sick and scared and heartbroken. My husband and I passed the entire day without speaking. As I stood on the edge of the cliff summoning up the courage to jump, I felt entirely alone. It is a sad day for all those whose love has withered away. Some things can't be fixed. I want to believe that "love is all you need" because it feels as though it could almost be true, but then I remember, on days like this, that for as many hearts that sing, there are equally as many that struggle to beat. Question: How long ago were the authors parent's married? Options: - Last Valentine's day - They were never technically married - not enough information - About 60 years ago
About 60 years ago

Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Before we got married my husband and I lived in 4 different apartments all within the span of one year. The worst one of all of them was actually a great apartment, but our upstairs neighbors drove us positively insane. A list of their common antics: Blasting movies/music with the bass turned all the way up into the small hours of the morning, in their bedroom, which was directly above our bedroom Stomping, all day, every day, no matter what, always stomping. Sometimes running full speed around their apartment. It was a 1 bedroom and they had at least 4 adults (two couples) and at least 2 kids living there. They also always had company over. It was a nonsmoking complex but they smoked on their porch and tossed their butts over their balcony, which would leave them landing in our little porch. Constantly came out to find butts and trash in our potted plants and all over the ground. We had to call the sheriff on them once because one of the couples living there got in a very loud, very obvious domestic violence situation. We heard them screaming and throwing each other around. At one point the man smashed her head through the wall. The kicker was when they brought home one of those mini motorcycles and put it out on their porch. Their porch was made of slatted wood so there were gaps between the boards. The damn bike started leaking fuel (racing fuel no less) through the slats and on our porch (and all over our stuff). Ruined a table, some laundry I had air-drying out there and killed a few of our plants. Not only that but while this was happening they were throwing their butts down onto our porch too. Could have started a fire. Then there was the spitting. They would spit over the edge of their balcony and we complained so they started spitting THROUGH the floor boards so it was definitely intentional. I have never experienced a more trashy group of people. So glad to be out of that apartment and away from them now. Question: Why were the downstairs neighbors so glad to move out of their apartment? Options: - because they were loud and always had company over - because they had never experienced a more trashy group of people and couldn't wait to get away from them. - not enough information - because they threw cigarette butts from their porch onto the property below.
because they had never experienced a more trashy group of people and couldn't wait to get away from them.

Q: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: My mother's shopping lists were ordered by rules known only to her. As you slid your finger down the columns of groceries and toiletries, you would invariably be stopped by something along the lines of "2dozjumHerbal Essences" or "1pepperoni TC," with the "TC" underlined twice and flanked by gnarled masses of pencil scratch-outs. When we were kids, we dreaded accompanying her to Wal-Mart, or worse, the Cosco at the edge of town, where the echoing rafters and limitless aisles seemed to mock the confusion into which we were inevitably thrown when handed torn-off fragments of the list. Of course, it was easy enough to see in hindsight that "2dozjumHerbal Essences" was merely the bastard child of two drunkenly weaving columns--we had been supposed to get two dozen jumbo eggs and a bottle of my mother's favourite brand of shampoo (ever inventive in creating proprietary abbreviations--"TC" standing for, what else, thin crust pizza--my mother scrupulously wrote out brand names in full). It was a little like ordering chemicals for a laboratory, sans any knowledge of chemistry--or, for that matter, laboratories, although my ignorance of the distinction between baking soda and baking powder cannot be entirely the root of my confusion. Eventually I--and my siblings--learned the difference between tomato paste and tomato sauce, and could readily distinguish one brand of laundry detergent from a similarly-styled knock-off, but my shame-faced trips back to the mothercart never ceased. I would track her down, most often in the produce section--she was usually loath to trust us with the delicate task of selecting the very best fruits and vegetables--and hand her back my portion of the list, asking for an explanation. Usually it amounted to a failure of awareness on my part--get the kind of soap we always get, of course! Question: How did the children learn which brands Mother wanted them to fetch? Options: - not enough information - By mother picking the right one first for them - By pictures of the item in a magazine - By bringing the wrong item back to the mother cart
A: By bringing the wrong item back to the mother cart