I haven't done a puzzle for at least twenty years, but I am so suggestible that hearing my WHCA driver talk about doing them inspired me to buy one about two weeks ago. I wasn't able to think of a place where I could put a puzzle that the dogs wouldn't mess it up until yesterday. Once I thought of opening up the gate leg table and putting it in a corner of the living room, I did a little rearranging and set to work last night.
There is something very comforting about the puzzle. I had chosen a relatively simple one to avoid frustration and I found the activity of searching out the flat-edged pieces of the perimeter quite absorbing. Priscilla had given me some hints about puzzle strategy, and I proceeded with separating out pieces that, in this case, looked like they were part of the barn. What energy my mind expended in examining shapes and colors. My concentration would not have been any more focused had I been on the verge of discovering the true meaning of life. Before I knew it, over two hours had passed.
I like seeing the partly finished puzzle there, too. There is a sense of leisure time spent in old-fashioned innocence, of slow-paced activity and distant, sustainable goals. There's a belief in the inevitability of return, that temporary absense does not indicate permanent abandonment. It is a promise of the fulfillment of potential.
The puzzle was fifty cents well spent.