It is immensely satisfying to find all four corners of a puzzle. It rarely happens for me. I usually find three and then, after exhaustive searching, decide that the puzzle is faulty and the fourth corner was never put in. The same goes for the rest of the edge pieces, I seek them out, but their entirety eludes me. Until, of course, they pop up, usually on the cusp of puzzle despair, in the jumble of pieces, willing me to carry on. The last puzzle I tackled (I only do one or two a year), was a different story. I found all four corners quickly, and, with a little help, all of the edge pieces. It was absurdly satisfying. Looking at the completed parameters of this puzzle was resolutely affirming and empowering; there was still so much discovery, disappointment and victory to unravel, but the certainty of the structure was at once palpably soothing and invigorating.
This pandemic is a puzzle with perpetually absent edge pieces.
For the most part, the overall edges are recognizable. There are a few minor gaps on the bottom, entire sections missing from the left side, the right side is a line of single pieces waiting for at least one connection, and I can't tell if this one piece goes in the center of the top or about a third of the way in from the left corner. It's also entirely possible that the piece from the top actually is the missing piece from the bottom. So, I get to work on sections in the middle until other edge pieces pop up.
The sourdough edge took a little time. I could piece together sections of it, but it took a few tries to see exactly how they needed to arrange.
The housecleaning section is still a bit of a jumble. Some parts came together really easily, while others still only have one or two anchor pieces present, and others have a few pieces that might belong there, but might also go in the stress eating or "maybe it's time to try Noom" section.
The Zoom section is disproportionally large, mostly shades of beige, with a lot of lines that seem to be going in one way, but actually align in every possibly angle. That one is best attacked in small doses.
I made some headway in the "What a great time to reinvent your life" section at the beginning, but have not found a piece that belongs there in awhile.
The "Pivotal Election and Social Justice" section is interlaced throughout the puzzle, and seems to have connecting pieces to every other section including a complex bridge composed of alternating arms folded and hands joined between the Hope and Despair sections.
The "Watch the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe" section took some time, but is finally complete, though it is still missing the edge piece of the Black Widow movie.
And then there are some sections that are just unrecognizable. School, Hug Horror, Time,"Is this Allergies or Covid?" These and more ambiguously designed sections butt up against the unfinished edges leaving jagged bite marks in my puzzle.
I know I need to be patient and diligent, but this puzzle is really monopolizing my dining room table. To be clear, this inconvenience is not infringing on our ability to eat on said table, it's just taking up space usually allotted for the rest of life's clutter; you know, the clutter that was already stressful before the Pandemic Puzzle arrived. And my regular puzzle strategies don't seem to be working.
I really do think they shipped the puzzle incomplete, because the amount of pieces left are surely not enough to fill what is lacking. And yes, I've looked under the table, and the radiator and my dog's tongue for any missing pieces. And I'm not at the stage of completion yet where I can just look at the shape of the piece to see where it goes, I'm at the everything is foliage and/or the same color and could go anywhere stage. I've never put a puzzle back in the box without completing it, but this one is taking forever, and I don't know how much more bread I can bake or walks I can take or books I can "plan" to read. It just all feels so undoable.
I need another edge piece to pop up. I know if I search for it I will not find it. So, I should try to decipher the particular shade of red in this piece to see if it belongs in the "All the pants that don't fit anymore section" or the "maybe it's time to start making jam" section. I can just keep focusing on the specific variations of each section; double down on the details, on the pointillism of it all to eventually reveal the entirety of it all. Until another edge further defines the whole of what to see.
And when my eyes begin to hurt and I'm tempted to hurl the puzzle to the corners I will eventually have to clean, I will walk away for moment, or two or 100 and lie on the couch with my dog and watch the Office again without judgment or remorse. Because when I go back and shuffle the pieces left in the box another edge piece might present itself, and sustain me for the next stretch.
