Once I start a puzzle, a chain of events is set into place. First, finding all the edge pieces, then sorting pieces into like colors and patterns, then putting together chunks of puzzle until the pieces I have sorted out are gone.
My family used to get out puzzles on snow days or boring winter weekends stuck inside. I guess my husband never had this experience, because when I had the idea to do a puzzle yesterday, he was indifferent. “I want to get a really hard one! Will you do it with me?” I asked him, excitedly. He shrugged. We walked to the toy store in Shirlington (a local business we love to patronize), and I should have been alarmed when my husband thought a 500 piece puzzle would be hard enough. “Are you kidding?!” I exclaimed. “No less than 1000 will do.”
Puzzle in tow, we came home and I began the process. “Help me sort!” He looked at me like I was crazy. He turned on a movie and left me to puzzle alone. He feigned interest, half-heartedly putting together a few pieces, but I could tell he wasn’t into it.
Now I’m left with a puzzle about 1/4 finished. I could do more productive things today... but I feel like I have to finish it- with or without any help.