A Puzzling Relationship

[Any resemblance to romantic relationships is purely coincidental.]

After rediscovering my love for jigsaw puzzles later in life, I realize there’s a definite process that occurs with each one. First, of course, is the mad craving to start a puzzle. Personally, I prefer new ones as opposed to a “do-over” of an oldie. Used puzzles are fine though, as long as they are new to me and intact. Sometimes it’s nice to get a friend’s recommendation, but we’re all different, so I might not enjoy a particular puzzle just because a friend had fun doing it. Sometimes I am in the mood for a beautiful scene of a beach or a garden, but other times I want an animal (kitty!) or something whimsical, such as a unicorn. 

There’s something so thrilling about opening a new one and sorting out the pieces. My second step is to find the edges and get the frame together. (I generally don’t do “shaped” puzzles that aren’t rectangular.) The third task is to figure out the optimal way to organize the inside pieces ~ and it’s most often by color, bright hues being easier to begin with. This is the fun part of getting to know a puzzle in an intimate way. After a little while, I start having a sense of where things go and the subtle differences in colors, such as the blue of the sky vs the blue of the lake. I can zone out for hours while doing a puzzle and my worries vanish (temporarily). Whenever I take a break, I make sure to cover my PIP (puzzle in progress), so pieces don’t disappear into Inkyland.

Finishing a puzzle can take a few hours, a couple days, or a week, depending on its complexity and whatever else I have going on. I always do them alone now, but they definitely go faster with a partner. It took me over a week to complete the 1000-piece dystopian carnival because it was so dark and weird. That was expected. My 1000-piece black kitty in blossoms* took longer than I thought it would because the flowers were so similar to each other. I did a 500-piece street scene in one night, but a 350-piece grey kitty puzzle took just as long. Right now I am on my last 1000-piece puzzle ~ it’s a stained glass style rainbow unicorn ~ and while it’s beautiful and I am having a lot of fun with it, after this my plan is to stick with the 500-piece puzzles.

What happens after I complete a puzzle? Naturally I want to admire it for a few minutes, take a picture, post it to IG/FB, get compliments, etc. Then… I break it all up in a satisfying smasheroo and return it to the box with the accompanying poster (it’s great that most puzzles now include one). I seal it all up so it stays in good condition for the next solver. The exception is my black kitty in blossoms, which is so fabulous I glued it and put it on my wall. Otherwise, I’m happy to donate my puzzle to anyone who might enjoy doing it. Why would I keep it? My mom and I used to redo puzzles, but I would rather get a new one for next time. I have a lot of great memories of working on puzzles with my mother, and I confess that sometimes I chat with her now while doing one. (The conversation is pretty much one-sided.)

*For anyone following the black kitty in blossoms saga on IG/FB, I found the missing piece!!! After reviewing friends’ suggestions, which were much appreciated, I decided to cut out a square of the corresponding area of the poster, carefully tape it behind the missing piece, and then use puzzle sticky tape to keep the whole thing together. It looks amazing! You can’t even tell a piece is gone. As I was working on the unicorn this weekend, however, I spied a piece of puzzle lodged behind one of my dining room chair cushions. At first, I thought it was from the new puzzle, but then I realized it was the missing piece from the kitty one! I ran into my room and placed it in its rightful spot. Eventually, it would be a good idea to put a dab of glue on the reverse side, but for now it seems fine. I apologized to Inky for accusing her of taking the piece, and she graciously accepted it.