Remember the old adage, "different strokes for different folks"? That concept is playing out right before my very eyes.
Regular readers may recall that I blogged earlier about my SO and I 'working' a jigsaw puzzle together. We've been at this now for almost a week. The puzzle is Christmas-themed, with lots of reds from Santa's clothes, a ton of differing browns from Santa's giant knapsack, devilishly difficult braided rug multi-colored pieces, and an over-abundance of evergreen boughs and tree decorations - just to name a few of the challenges presented in this Sprinkbok puzzle. We are about two-thirds done with the puzzle and I can say that it has been relaxing, fun and very interesting.
While this has, for the most part, been an act of marital bonding, a few chinks in the matrimonial armor have occurred and, in the interest of the Freedom of Information Act, I'd like to present my side of the story.......FIRST.
We are working at a fairly large dining room table which has been perfect to lay out the pieces on, with plenty of room to work. Almost from the first night, we sort of, accidentally, settled into 'our chairs', with each of us returning to the same spot each time. It turns out that the lighting above the table problematically produces more glare from one angle (his) than the other (mine). "So", I helpfully suggested, "Get your sunglasses." Not good.
We have also discovered that we have differing working styles. (Why this should come as a surprise to anyone who knows us is a complete surprise to me.) He is very methodical in his approach and will spend.....in my humble opinion.....an inordinate amount of time looking for ONE piece. He is doggedly determined to ferret out this ONE piece and does so with an amazing amount of 'sticktuitiveness'. Unfortunately for me, after he has searched for the inordinate amount of time that I described, a conspiracy theory begins to formulate in his brilliant mind and he becomes convinced that I am either hiding this ONE puzzle piece, it has fallen on the floor and been kicked far away, or that the piece is missing and was never included in the box in the first place. A defective puzzle.
In fairness, I must tell you that he always finds his ONE puzzle piece.
I, on the other hand, seem to put a puzzle together via the shotgun approach. It is not unusual for me to have six or seven puzzle 'substations' going at one time. My mind has this need to accumulate pieces that, say, obviously go in the poinsettia section of the picture. I'll futz around with those, assembling as many as I can as rapidly as I can, then I move on to another section of the puzzle, let's say the doll in Santa's knapsack. And so it goes. I'm currently juggling sections of rug, knapsack, Santa's suit, poinsettia, and Santa's boots. I guess that we are like the tortoise and the hare, although I'm pretty sure that his slow-but-sure method results in his having completed more of the puzzle than I.
This style difference is also evident in interior painting and fishing. He can fish one hole all day long. Me? If the fish haven't bitten rabidly within the first fifteen minutes, I'm ready to move. When that doesn't happen, I get out my book and suntan lotion. The interior house painting I won't even begin to describe.
Different strokes for different folks. At least we are not boring.
Ancora imparo
