I did an Edward Gorey puzzle that I got for Christmas a few years ago (and had brought on several vacations but never done), and moved on to a couple of puzzles I had in the basement. It was very satisfying.
When I finished the puzzles in the house I bought a new puzzle whilst waiting for my train one evening.
So. Very. Majestic.
It took me many weekends to finish.
The whole family cheered me on.
So many grasses and furry bits.
But, there was one problem.
I was missing a piece.
Now, everyone in my family knows that, in my youth, whenever my family was doing a puzzle, my dad would pocket a piece so he could put the finishing touch on whatever we were building and they teased me that his spirit, somehow, hid this piece from me. We spent days looking. We moved furniture, we tore the living room apart, to no avail.
Finally, K came up with a solution.
He scanned the image on the box, printed it on photo paper, scaled it to size, removed the nine pieces around the missing one, traced the missing bit on to cardboard, mounted the image on the cardboard and made me a new piece. It was a glorious solution to a very vexing problem. We rejoiced.
I put the puzzle away and started a new one.
I've spent this weekend on the new puzzle - a seascape with a cottage and lighthouse.
I grabbed a sweater this afternoon and kept working after I did some housework.
You can see where this is going, can't you?
I reached into my pocket...and there it was.
It's a metaphor, people.