My puzzle problem

Here's the thing:  if there is a jigsaw puzzle around, I cannot leave it alone. 

I come by this naturally.  My grandfather and mother were the same way.  My uncle L (the highly disciplined English professor) won't even come in the house if there's a puzzle out.  My other uncle D (the Latin major turned auto mechanic) will come in the house but won't leave until he finishes the puzzle.

We have rules about puzzles. Find all the straight edge pieces and put together the border first. Then start on a particular color: pick all those pieces out, organize them in rows by shape, shading and grain, and get as many of them together as you can, then move on to the next section. Most importantly, looking at the picture is cheating. It's simply not done.

One year for Christmas, my grandfather took two big puzzles, mixed all the pieces up together, split them between two Ziploc bags, and gave one to Uncle L and the other one to Uncle D.  Uncle L put his away in a closet.  Uncle D worked for weeks on his before he figured out the joke.  (My grandfather was perverse that way.)

One year for her birthday, my father gave my mother a puzzle that was round and solid yellow.  (My father was perverse that way.)

My mother finished that puzzle.  (So was she.)

I bought this puzzle for Christmas vacation because I wanted to be a slug for a week.  And I'm not leaving the house much anyway, since the left side of my face still looks a little blotchy from the great scalding turkey stock splash incident of December 26. 

And I just finished it.

Remarkably, all of the pieces are here.  I say "remarkably" because my mother's cat early on discovered the joys of reaching onto the card table and pulling down entire sections of the puzzle, then carrying them off in his mouth.

It's done. 

Now I can return to my regularly scheduled programming.