Day three

Woke up thinking ‘Dear Lord, eight thousand pieces’.

(Actually the box says 8004 pieces. F. from work suggested that there must be four white wildcards.)

Spent a few hours sorting pieces. Found a blue corner! Then realized the stupid thing has three blue corners and they probably won’t help much.

Easier way out is the window

Easier way out is the window

Mom helped for a while, found another blue corner and fretted over properly identifying the shades of blue (it runs in the family. If I lived in the TARDIS, I’d be sorting all the pieces in a pleasant rainbow gradient).

We ordered a new table to be able to continue this little (ha!) project more comfortably. It should arrive on Saturday. Unfortunately in order for the table to fit something else has to go, so we drew lots and grandma will be sleeping outside in a tent. Sorry, grandma. But hey, at least it’s summer.

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Dia um

1. Torne-se proprietário de um quebra-cabeças de 8.000 peças
2. ????
3. Lucro!

O passo 3 deveria ser rotulado de “Pânico!”, mas tenho que admitir que foi um presente legal. Além disso, meus colegas pareciam felizes demais chegando com um presente tão insano para eu dar a eles a satisfação de entrar em pânico no primeiro dia.

Acho que idéia original era montarmos no trabalho. Embora seja verdade que eu estou tentando furtivamente transformar a empresa no Google em termos de zona de jogos, até mesmo nosso gestor mais distraído ia notar se a gente esgueirasse um quebra-cabeças de 93cm  x 137cm para dentro da sala de reuniões. Uma mesa de bilhar e uma rede dariam menos bandeira.

Onde eu monto meus quebra-cabeças de tamanho normal

Onde monto quebra-cabeças de tamanho normal

Então fui para casa e medi cada superfície horizontal disponível e algumas verticais também (não que eu tenha pensado seriamente em usar a TV de tela plana como tábua). Descobri que o único lugar onde o meu novo quebra-cabeças gigante de 8000 peças caberia é o tapete da sala, o que significaria bloquear toda a peça sabe-se lá por quanto tempo, sem mencionar as despesas médicas com problemas de coluna. Obviamente a logística da coisa precisava ser repensada.

Comecei a pesquisar porta-quebra-cabeças. Minha família começou a pesquisar camisas de força.

Day one

1. Become owner of 8000-piece jigsaw puzzle
2. ????
3. Profit!

Step 3 should more properly be labeled ‘Panic!’, but damn if this wasn’t a cool gift. Plus my work team looked way too happy about getting me something so utterly insane for me to give in to panic on the first day.

I believe their original idea was to put it together at work. While it’s true that I’m trying to stealthily turn the company into Google, game area wise, even the most oblivious manager will notice us sneaking a 93cm x 137cm puzzle into the conference room. A pool table and a hammock might be less conspicuous.

Where I work on my usual, sane-sized puzzles

Where I work on my usual, sane-sized puzzles

So I went home and measured every available horizontal surface and a few vertical ones (not that I was seriously considering using the flat-screen TV as a board). It turned out that the only place where my new giant 8000-piece jigsaw puzzle fits is the living room rug, which meant blocking the whole room for who knows how long, not to mention racking up some serious chiropractic bills. Clearly more thought about the logistics were in order.

I started looking into jigsaw carriers. My family started looking into straitjackets.