Since Grandma's move to her new apartment, (you remember, the one where she moved herself in a wheelbarrow) she has been having trouble settling in. Part of it is moving from a place she'd lived for 45 years and part of it is her age, but she was miserable for quite some time and even talked about moving back to her old place.
Considering that Uncle Dean and I were instrumental in making sure she didn't move back to her old place, she blames us. If she can't find a dish, she tells me "You know, your Uncle Dean threw it out." Any time she doesn't like something about her apartment, she mentions to me about how good her other place was and she wishes she hadn't "felt she needed to move". And then she looks at me. Pointedly.
This weekend at the funeral for my aunt, Grandma was telling everyone how much she loves her new place. She told everyone who would listen how much she likes her new apartment. Of course, she would not admit it to Dean or I. When we asked her directly, she said "Oh, it's well enough."