When people either suddenly (or predictably) lose their spouses, my thoughts go back to the days when I was in the ugly stages of grief. It reminds me of trying to stay busy, of accepting people's help as their gift to me, and of forcing myself to see and engage with the world. All I wanted to do sometimes was withdraw. Another effect of the "Harlem Shuffle" book reference from the last post was that I hunted down photos from 2009 when my late husband and I were moving Older Daughter into 45 Tiemann Place in the Upper West Side of NYC. It was an exciting but extremely stressful experience. (understatement) The IKEA trip to Brooklyn stands out in my memory like scenes from a Horror Film. I've never been near an IKEA since.

Believe it or not, I was wearing this same jacket today. I didn't realize how old it was. :)

My husband liked to hide from pictures if possible. When he got cancer though (which was only a few months after this), his attitude changed. He knew we would want images of him...later on.

Being NYC newbies, we'd never seen windows with grates over them. We weren't familiar with cockroaches either. The encounters didn't go well.

We called this "The Closet Kitchen" because that's exactly what it was. The building was a former hotel made into apartments, so this was the best they could do. Older Daughter eventually bought a multi-level rack that she used for storage and counter space.

I had never seen such a narrow refrigerator crammed into such a tiny space. If you were getting something out of there and another person opened the front door (to the left), you could get crushed.

I still have nightmares about the 1,000 parts to each piece of IKEA furniture, as well as the crazy little tools. These two made a great team though and made fairly short work of the puzzles furniture. And me? I used my own expertise to break down boxes, take them to the dumpster, make the bed and organize what I could.

With the past weighing on me a bit, it was both comforting and distracting to visit this bakery with Younger Daughter. She took the time to photograph her vegan pot pie and cupcake whereas I gobbled up my vegetable frittata and Tiramisu cake pop in no time. I still have an unfortunate fast eating habit from teaching. We only had about 15 minutes for lunch if you counted walking to the lunch room, heating up your meal and having bathroom time before the return to class. 37 years of that routine obviously had an effect--not a good one.

After our brunch, YD and I drove 10 minutes away to scout out a house that the New Yorkers are interested in. Nice neighborhood, many walkers and children, a busy street across from an elementary school, a color scheme just like mine and an outrageous price. Sigh.

Younger Daughter's job was to hunt down any "sketchiness" in the area; as a former Tacoma resident (although in a much different part), she has become quite the expert. She seems much happier in her new place in P-town, so that's a plus. May it lead to good things or at least better ones.
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