A curious little girl has interrupted my puzzle-building activity – and that’s alright with me.
I’m building a puzzle. Not a regular puzzle – a 1000-piece Jim Zuckerman monster showing a crumbling facade in muted browns with hints of pastels and whites here and there. It’s not easy – but I am a sucker for punishment, evidently.
I started it (with a little help from my man and my baby girl) between Christmas and New Year when a two-day spell of wet weather kept us shivering indoors. “Slow” doesn’t really do justice to the speed of my progress, which is hindered further by little hands that delve into the “sorted” box and scatter pieces across the floor! *funny child*
Today I managed to find and fit the last of the coloured pieces, leaving only the browns and beiges without homes. Formless and blurry, they don’t seem to fit anywhere. And yet they must. ♦ JP
The title of this post is borrowed from the lyrics of The Pieces Don’t Fit Anymore by James Morrison.
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