this cursed puzzle

I am working on the most challenging jigsaw puzzle of my life.

I don’t say that lightly. What I should’ve done is put it back in the box when I couldn’t confidently finish the edges. I’ve never done a puzzle where the edges weren’t easily enough assembled. Normally, I like to do puzzles without referencing the photo to make it more challenging. I gave up on that pretty early on in this one and having it on hand only marginally helped.

It took me two weekends to put together the top-right corner of white pieces. I know when you’re looking at it from far away, it seems okay enough—blanket lines creasing in contrast, the fur in different shades of brown—NO. It’s not okay enough. It’s awful. The puzzle was not printed in hi-res, those creases are blurs. I left the white parts for last and learned that I have to do them in the daytime with natural sunlight coming in because I have to sort them from warm white to cool white. Multiple pieces will fit into the same slot. I had to redo the entire left side of edge pieces—a first for me!

This puzzle has not been enjoyable at all, and it’s supposed to be a fun hobby for me!

Usually, when I do puzzles, I put on some fun playlist, ignore my phone, and get absorbed into sorting, searching, fitting, and feeling a little accomplished with each perfect fit. It becomes meditative for me and those little hits of serotonin give a nice boost of confidence and momentum. Towards the end of the puzzle, you gain even more momentum, increasing the speed at which pieces fit together and ending with a happy last piece. I am near the end and I fear there will be no grand momentum. 

Do you know what the best strategy has been so far for this cursed puzzle? I took every piece with the two corresponding edge requirements and put them in the same slot, over and over and over again. 

“The pleasure I take in jigsaw puzzles is derived, in part, from the thrill of competition. I enjoy the breaking down of a task into bite-size pieces and seeing how, finally, to conquer the thing. I like matching wits with a puzzle, discovering its secrets, and then besting it,” writes Susannah Pratt in an essay about putting together a jigsaw puzzle (if this looks familiar, it’s because I shared the article in an earlier tanjennts send). Maybe this is why I like jigsaw puzzles.

My favorite part of puzzling is what I wrote earlier: that immersive state I reside in. The hobby makes me slow down, way down, to look at the tiny differences in shade, color, print, perhaps even delight in the pattern itself. It’s tactile and not on a screen, which is how I like my hobbies. I do my puzzles on the ground, hunched over in a way I know I will pay for in two decades, if not the next night of sleep. It’s a sacrifice for pleasure—one I am usually happy to pay—except for this dog puzzle. I am finishing this out of spite. Spiting whom? I don’t know, the puzzle gods?

Besides forcing me to slow down, puzzles also make me check the wider view. When you get too close for too long, you lose sight of that bigger pattern, something I know I’m prone to do. Perhaps in a few weeks, I’ll be able to write that I’ve finally conquered the puzzle and learned my lesson to cut my losses early.