Earlier this year, I removed all Internet services from my home, which was very upsetting at first, but I have lived that way. 【小题1】.

I was not content with the time I was wasting—【小题2】. If there is something I want to research on the Internet, I write it down and use that list when I have Internet access. Now I’m forced to leave the house to get the Internet. I’ll go to the office, the library, the coffee shop, or some other places with free public Wi-Fi, and work on what I need to do online.

Now the Internet is a tool I use to improve my life. 【小题3】, but I go on the Internet with the intention of doing these things. Whenever I’m on the Internet now, I use it in a deliberate way, a way that benefits me and my life, and a way that adds value.

【小题4】. I could focus on writing without being disturbed. I have more time to read, to write, to think, to exercise and to walk. Because I’ m out of the house and there are people around. I meet new people. Additionally, I have more time for friends and I feel less stressed and my thoughts are clearer. My mind is more focused on important things. 【小题5】 Plus, I no longer long for the Internet like I once did.

It will be upsetting at first, but you will live, and your life will be better without it.

Grandma Pugh sized up the baby like a pig at the farmers’ market. There was a pause and then she pronounced. “He’s got nice long legs.” She clapped her hands once in approval. But then she frowned and leaned forward. Everyone waited anxiously. The baby had opened his eyes and was staring up. “But those cross eyes won’t do,” she declared firmly, shaking her head in disappointment.

That had been Freddie Pilcher’s first meeting with Grandma Pugh. Since then, ten years had passed. Much to his grandmother’s satisfaction, she’d been proven right about the boy’s legs. He was a regular beanpole. Grandma Pugh had also been correct about his eyes. Freddie had been wearing glasses to correct his vision since he was two years old. His current pair was thick, and cheap-looking, but at least he could see.

Freddie not only had poor eyesight, but he was also clumsy. He wasn’t good at schoolwork either. But there was one thing that the boy was good at and it was all on account of the length of his legs. He could jump.

Freddie was the best jumper in school. Not only could he leap the furthest but also the highest. At break times, he entertained the little ones by leaping over the school wall into Mrs. Hobson’s garden and then rapidly jumping back. She had been up to see the head teacher several times because somebody had been crushing her vegetables.

It was badgers (獾), Freddie suggested, when questioned by Miss Harpy—definitely badgers; no doubt about it. His dad had terrible problems with badgers. Only last week he had lost two rows of carrots. Freddie had woken one night and heard them tearing through the garden, a whole herd of them. They rooted up the lawn and dug up the vegetables. Terrible things, badgers. All the other children nodded their heads wisely. There was a moment’s pause in Class Three as everyone thought about the dreadful damage that badgers could do.

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C．	D．

They say a cat has nine lives, and I think that possible since I am now living my third life     and I’m not even a cat. My father died when I was 15, and we had a hard struggle to make a living. And my mother, who was seriously ill in her last years, died while still in her 60s. My sister married soon after, and I followed her example within the year.

This was when I began to enjoy my first life. I was very happy, in excellent health. I had a good job in San Jose and a beautiful home up the peninsula in San Carlos. Life was a pleasant dream. Then the dream ended. I became afflicted(使苦恼) with a slowly progressive disease of the motor nerves, affecting first my right arm and leg, and then my other side. Thus began my second life...

In spite of my disease I still drove to and from work each day, with the aid of special equipment installed in my car. And I managed to keep my health and optimism, to a degree, because of 14 steps. Crazy? Not at all. Our home was an affair with 14 steps leading up from the garage to the kitchen door. Those steps were a standard measure of life. They were my yardstick, my challenge to continue living. I felt that if the day arrived when I was unable to lift one foot up one step and then drag the other painfully after it-repeating the process 14 times, I would be through-I could then admit defeat and lie down and die.

Then on a dark night in August, 1971, I began my third life. It was raining when I started home that night; strong winds and slashing rain beat down on the car as I drove slowly down one of the less-traveled roads. Suddenly the steering wheel jerked(猝然一动). In the same instant I heard the bang of a blowout. It was impossible for me to change that tire! Utterly impossible!

I started the engine and thumped(砰然地响) slowly along until I came to the dirt road, where I turned in and where I found lighted windows welcomed me to a house and pulled into the driveway and blared the horn.

The door opened and a little girl stood there. When she knew what happened to me, she went into the house and a moment later came out, followed by a man who called a cheerful greeting. I sat there comfortable and dry, and felt a bit sorry for the man and the little girl working so hard in the storm.

About an hour later, the man’s voice was heard, “This is a bad night for car trouble, but you’re all set now.” “Thanks,” I said. “How much do I owe you?” He shook his head, “Nothing. Cynthia told me you were a cripple(跛者). Glad to be of help. I know you’d do the same for me. There’s no charge, friend.” I held out a five-dollar bill, “No! I like to pay my way.” He made no effort to take it and the little girl stepped closer to the window and said quietly, “Grandpa can’t see it. ”