Problem: 
Q: Yes. I had a stress heart attack five years ago. My step-son is a heroin addict. He will be on an opioid agonist for the rest of his life. His behavior mirrored the worst of what addicts do to a family. I was desperate to make a change, and my husband was desperate to save his son’s life. That meant having to watch my husband support my step-son as he abused me and my children. Multiple criminal behaviors, many times the police came to the house, two convictions, long-term parole. Watching him threaten to kill me, kill his father, and kill his younger brother and sister. Add to that a very stress job situation with a new boss who decided he needed a new VP, but had no basis to terminate my employment, so instead was determined to make my work life a living hell on earth. So, yep, I had a heart attack. I’m still angry at everything that led up to the heart attack. I’m working really hard on forgiving my husband, forgiving my step-son, and the overwhelming guilt of my children seeing me as an accomplice to their abuse. I found a new job, and then had the pleasure of seeing my former boss fired by the Board of Directors. Since then I find I’m hyper-vigilant in issues of child abuse, worker abuse, addiction, lying and deceit (Trump trigger), and feeling somewhat betrayed by my husband. I honestly think if it had been one of my children doing the abusing, I would have found a way to put my child into long-term rehab. I would not have pretended it wasn’t happening, or “not that bad” or other form of denial. As is, I lived through this hell for two years, and a part of me will never forgive for how it all came about. Probably TMI, sorry. Becky Question: What did the step-son threaten === The answer to the above question is
Answer: to kill people
Problem: 
Q: “What was your worst makeup disaster?” Do fingernails count? I hope so, because this is a good one: I was 21 years old. I worked for a major commercial airline. A friend of mine and I decided to go to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. It was our first trip to Puerto Rico. The hotel at which we stayed had a lovely (classy/expensive) restaurant serving continental fare. So, we decided to have our first dinner there. We dressed to the nines. Our hair and makeup were perfect. I had fake fingernails (not acrylic - those were fairly new back then. I had the type one glues on). Those fingernails were long, and painted a very bright - and obvious - red. When the waiter came to take our drink order, we both ordered glasses of wine. The waiter brought the wine, set it down on the table, and waited to take our meal orders. I smoked back then, and at the time, smoking was still allowed in restaurants. In a 21-year-old attempt to look classy and sophisticated, at that moment I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, picked up my lighter, and lit my cigarette - or so I thought. Unfortunately, my long, red, fake thumbnail got in the way of the flame, and it caught on fire. The waiter’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He froze in place. I was horrified. The flame was literally shooting up from my nail! And smoke; the nail was plastic! Quickly scanning the table for the closest thing with which I could extinguish the flame, I spied my glass of wine. As nonchalantly as possible, I stuck my thumb in the glass. There was a sizzle as the flaming nail hit the wine. When I withdrew my thumb from the glass, the nail was melted, black, and curled under. Ever the professional, the waiter regained his composure and proceeded to take our orders without missing a beat - but I’m sure I was the talk of the kitchen for the rest of the evening. So much for my attempt at appearing “classy” and “sophisticated”…. Question: Immediately after the end of this text, what is the friend's reaction after the episode? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: Laughing
Problem: 
Q: Jon's back ached. Frost had come early this year and the ground broke like stone. Jon had spent eight seasons breaking this ground to plant spring's crops and every year it got harder. Sweat beaded on his brow and he felt his cotton shirt stick to his skin under his coat. Jon took off his soft-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead. He examined the hat as he let his breath return. The hat had kept the burning sun and beating rain off his head for as long as Jon owned the farm. He wore it every day. It had been a gift given to him on the day he married Alasandra but he could not remember who gave it to him. Jon put it back on his head and pushed the tiller deep into the stubborn earth. Daven ran over the hill and down the cart path leading to their small cobblestone house. The boy had only left a short while ago and he held no sack with the bread and cheese his mother had told him to buy. Jon furrowed his brow. The boy continued to run and soon the wind carried his cry to his father's ears. "Papa! A carriage is coming! Two horses!" Jon's furrowed brow remained. Surely the boy meant a cart from a neighboring farm. No carriage made it out this far. "It's from the city! A soldier drives it!" Jon felt ice water flow over him. He turned to the house. "Sandra! Get the musket out of the pantry!" Jon saw his wife's face appear at one foggy window. Jon gestured wildly at her. "Get it!" They were too late. As Daven reached Jon, the black carriage already approached. A single figure sat on the bench, guiding the two brown horses down Jon's path. Question: What wedding gift remained useful to Jon? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:
house