I recently spent a good amount of time working on a puzzle.
It was a good puzzle, it would have looked great.
It did look great.
Save for the +14 missing pieces.
This bugged me, all that effort and still not a complete puzzle. I looked everywhere for them and then stared down at my masterpiece.
All I could think was – “I finished it” – but it left me feeling empty because it wasn’t perfect.
For context, here is the puzzle, isn’t it wonderful?
I could wax poetic about how nothing comes out perfect and you simply need to start again. But that’s a tomorrow conversation, today’s conversation was about this not working out how I wanted and there is no way to fix it.
So we will take today and ruminate on what went wrong and then tomorrow we will figure out the next step and get better.
I don’t know where the pieces went, but I am beginning to get a sneaky feeling that my dog had something to do with it.
