Monday, May 31

The dissectologist's final piece

I have always enjoyed assembling jigsaw puzzles. I especially love puzzles with cats on them. I had so many completed ones, both framed and unframed, lying around that I had a hard time deciding what to do with them when I was packing for my move into my own apartment. With a desire to lead a more minimalist lifestyle, I did not buy any more puzzles and it has been 4 years since I assembled one.

During the Circuit Breaker and all the extra time social distancing at home, my hands (and mind) began to itch for a puzzle. In this climate of uncertainty, the prospect of a clear solution just waiting to be discovered is immensely alluring. Like cross-stitching and painting-by-numbers, it is also a healthier activity compared to staring at screens. I was so sorely tempted to get this particular one

Recently, I chanced upon a mini jigsaw puzzle giveaway on a blessing group and jumped on it! I could and would certainly give it away upon completion and pay it forward. I was also excited about the fact that this was a mini version such that the 1000 pieces will only reach A3 size. Talk about saving space, and I just have a thing for tiny, miniature stuff.


So the dissectologist, yours truly, got to work. I was really looking forward to the entire process from completing the frame to putting that final piece in its place, and that ultimate sense of accomplishment. In fact, I started to wonder which or where might my final piece be and muse about if there could be a significance to that final piece.. 🤔

My puzzle assembling skills are a little rusty that although I found the frame fairly quickly, my progress soon halted as I was getting distracted by pieces all over the place unsorted by colours. It was not the gratifying experience I was expecting. But herein lies the beauty of doing a puzzle, I get to decide when I stop for the day (unlike daily quests on my Two Dot game which leaves me no choice! 😂)

The following day I started by sorting the colours (which should had been the first thing to do after finding the frame!) and I did not want to stop. There is some real satisfaction in being able to recognise exactly where a particular piece goes, or placing a piece correctly by gut feeling. I was on a roll, grinning like an idiot with every piece that found its rightful place.

Before long, I could see that the final piece would probably be a green piece of a grass patch without any distinctive markings, not a blue piece of the water waves that looked indistinguishable from one to the other. So... green instead of blue huh.....

Except, my final piece was nowhere to be found. 

It was neither green nor blue or any colour because as I was searching frantically for the missing piece, I already forgotten which was the second last piece I put in place. I totally missed out on that thrill of the moment of epiphany when the whole picture reveals itself with the placement of the final piece.

The crazy thing is I was okay with it. If it had happened when I was younger, I would have cursed and  swore at the indignation, at the wasted time and effort to arrive at imperfection. But not today. 

Age does crazy things to you. Really had enjoyed the journey rather than focusing on the destination. 

And perhaps that was exactly the significance of this dissectologist's final piece.

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