The entirety of my problematic personality encapsulated in one anecdote.
  1. We need a real estate lawyer, so my BF tasks me with googling the lawyers on a list provided by our broker.
    BF has taken care of literally every other practical chore associated with buying an apt. Having correctly assessed my abilities/proclivities, he gives me a job I can accomplish without leaving bed or getting dressed.
  2. The first person on the list is a woman with an office in our neighborhood. Her first Google results are all professional; halfway down the page is her NYT marriage notice.
    Guess which link I clicked on? Their wedding, in the late '90s, made them look like people I would like.
  3. I google her husband. The first result is their marriage notice. The second is his obituary.
    Cancer. Very recent. So young.
  4. The next thing I know, I am reading the entire contents of his memorial service, somehow available as a pdf via the funeral home.
    There are pictures. Two of their three young children spoke with precocious eloquence. His father spoke, as did neighbors from their building. It appears this man was the most incredible person I never met.
  5. BF comes back into bedroom. I am sobbing over laptop.
    I attempt to show him the memorial material. He tells me there is something wrong with me. I agree with him, but persist in trying to share.
  6. "Now we can't hire her. I know too much. Besides, she is probably too overwhelmed to take on new clients right now. Do you think it would be weird if I emailed her anyway? To send our condolences?"
  7. BF googles other lawyers, hires a guy named Justin who lives in Sunset Park
    He's totally fine.