puzzles

During Covid, like many people, I made bread and did puzzles. Those activities were supposed to be togetherness moments with my kids, but Ab and I only made focaccia together once and even Dylan got sick of doing puzzles with me after a while. They may not have created bonding moments, but they did help me stay off my phone and gave me something to do that wasn’t reading.

I’ve been scrolling on my phone (and my computer) too much lately. However, the book I’m currently reading is a heavy one, and I’m reading it in sips instead of gulps. (Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murder and the Birth of the FBI by David Grann) I probably should work out a little more, but even that only takes up so much time in the day. I organized the linen closet but couldn’t bring myself to start sifting through the totes in the basement that are filled with things that should be saved and things that should be tossed, which requires a discerning mood.

I’m also scrolling in my brain too much, returning over and over to a decision that’s mostly made but not all the way, and the steps we will need to take to put the decision into play. Basically, I needed something to quiet my thoughts but I didn’t want to keep numbing them with endless online stimulation.

So this weekend, I broke out one of my favorite puzzles. I dusted the dining room table and pulled open the curtains to let in the light. It turns out I’ve forgotten parts of puzzling, like that I dislike having to flip over pieces while separating them or that Max likes to sit on the pieces, bat them off the table, and chew on them every once in a while.

I didn’t forget how soothing it feels to focus without focusing too much.

Abbey told me it makes her frustrated to do them, the lack of control you have over the speed with which you can finish. I forgot that, too, how they take longer than expected. Even the ones you’ve done before. Even when things seem like they’re coming together, there are whole sections that still need to be started and incorporated.

Ryan laughed when I told him I wanted to finish by the end of the day. I reconsidered as the light shifted. I thought about bringing over a lamp so I could keep working. Instead, I neatened the area and stepped away. My mind felt quieter, and I thought I will probably appreciate the opportunity to quiet it again tomorrow.