After a bitterly cold, yet rejuvenating, weekend of staying inside at home PLUS a well-deserved indulgence of Chocolate Chip cookies with Prosecco [see previous post for context about indulgence], I’m feeling better now.
My silly self has returned, my smart self has kicked in, my stylish self is back to planning, and my sane self… well, she’s still trying to make sense of things around here, in the world, wherever.
Because it’s winter in the midwest, as a way of passing the time, we’ve started putting together on our dining room table another jigsaw puzzle [see previous post about our freaky puzzle project]. And by *we* I mean Zen-Den is doing 96% of the putting together while I do 4%.
Same as it ever was.
The puzzle has 1,500 pieces and is of a cheerful tropical beach scene. It’s colorful, but with lots of sandy beach and a building with a thatched roof.
Because Zen-Den believes in the economic concept of Division of Labor I was tasked first with putting together the wordy signs as seen in the photo immediately above.
I did that all by myself.
Then he asked me to find all the tan, beige, khaki pieces that form the aforementioned beach and roof on a building. I’m capable of putting bright colors together, but when it comes to connecting pieces that are almost monochromatic, my eyes fail me [see previous post about me walking away from puzzle dust].
To wit, I found all the pieces for those portions of the puzzle, but I couldn’t get the pieces to fit together.
Zen-Den looked across the table at me to see how I was doing, then uttered what might be the most apt description of me he has ever said. He said in all seriousness:
“You don’t know your sandcastles from your tiki huts.”
No truer words, kids. No. Truer. Words.
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