300 pieces of my sanity

Several months ago, one of my neighbors gave me a 300-piece jigsaw puzzle. It wasn’t until just recently that my youngest son and I had time to put it together. I thought it would be fairly easy. My son did too. In my 40-plus years of wisdom and enlightenment, I felt optimistic.

We started with the edges just as most people say to do. Then it fell into a free-for-all of just hoping to find a piece that would fit with another one. As my eyes crossed and it all started to look the same color, my optimism tank was empty. I contemplated quitting and putting the unfinished puzzle back in the box or, possibly, the trash can.

Before I did something drastic to an innocent cardboard puzzle, I asked for a break. My son agreed that a break would be nice and we retreated for a bit. I had a pile of clean laundry to fold and he headed outside to play basketball in the driveway. Several of breaks later, and with concentrated effort from all four members of my immediate family, the puzzle was completed. I decided maybe word searches would be a better way to spend my free time and conserve what little patience I had left.

When my children were much smaller and were ready for a snack or a meal, my mom used to comment that they had inherited my patience. My dad would helpfully point out that I had precious little to share so that couldn’t be the case. A 300-piece jigsaw puzzle proved he’s still right. I’m OK with that. 

If you find yourself with some unexpected free time, self-imposed or otherwise, I suggest you start with a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle.