Remember this? The problem has been solved. Long ago, actually. We found the missing piece, we plugged it in, we glued the puzzle, and it is now hanging comfortably on my ceiling, and can be called “complete” without any lingering feelings of guilt, emptiness, and/or irritation.
“Hey, L, I need a puzzle for tomorrow. Do you mind coming with me to buy one?”
“Oh, don’t worry, why don’t you take one of mine?”
Do you have any others?”
“No, take this one, it’s good!”
I swear, L. I swear. This was the puzzle from HELL. We spent eons hunched over that puzzle, as six hour chunks passed us by without notice(able progress). The edges were irregular, the pieces were bizarrely shaped, everything was the same freaking shade of purple, brown, or white, and so in hindsight, we may have been a bit over optimistic when we planned on getting it done in a night…then two nights…then three nights…ok, four nights. God.
A piece is missing.
Puzzle from Lindsay, help doing it from Michelle.