An open letter to the managers of this pandemic.

Dear friends,

Thank you for your hard work shutting down the world. You have a difficult task, and we all appreciate your dedication. However, I would be remiss if I did not reach out to you about a recent sheltering-in-place situation.

I dedicated approximately 346 hours to completing a jigsaw puzzle of the Kansas City skyline. As I’m sure you’re aware, the puzzle’s photo was taken at dusk and many of the 700 pieces are merely dark and do not display any discernible color nor shape. To say the puzzle was challenging would be an understatement. However, I had completed it before and knew it would be a mighty triumph, one whose completion would make my housebound heart soar.

I have always been one to take good care of my possessions. Although I’m approaching my 45th birthday, many of my childhood toys are still in near-pristine condition. I keep my shit nice.

So I’m sure you understand my horror, dismay, and utter devastation upon discovering that my 700-piece puzzle is actually a 692-piece puzzle. For the love of all that is holy, how did eight pieces of this puzzle go missing?

I have scoured the floors and interrogated every member of the household. There are no traces of the missing pieces. One or two lost pieces, I could perhaps understand – despite my storage-size Ziplocing of all puzzle accoutrements at the completion of each puzzle in my jigsaw library, misfortune could conceivably strike.

But as I’m sure you agree, eight missing pieces is not misfortune. It is a calamity, and obviously the work of a sub-par pandemic ground team.

I understand it’s a challenge to deploy a huge pandemic. But clearly, your people have failed to properly prepare this household for quality sheltering in place. I have done more than my fair share by Clorox wiping every surface and taking my temperature every 30 minutes. But your team – if it can be called that – has let us down. Eight missing puzzle pieces? That’s apropos of a slap-dash neighborhood chicken pox outbreak in the 70s. That’s not worthy of a global pandemic in this, the new millennium.

Kindly respond posthaste to let our household – nay, our community – know how you are going to rectify this situation. Because we might be a little on edge. And we might be on the verge of losing our shit.

Sincerely,

B

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3 Comments

  • Reply Ernie March 27, 2020 at 2:12 pm

    No!!! This is a travesty. 8 pieces? Funny you should mention pristine childhood toys- I have a similar inventory of my playthings. Perhaps extra male kids are to blame over here vs only 2 boys in my siblings growing up, but lawdy they are rough on everything.
    Incidentally my dad keeps all of our fisher price type toys. Years ago, OK decades ago, he inventoried every piece with my help, ie the peep with the doctor’s mask went with the hospital. So after my kids played there ge called me up to accuse them of stealing the king from the castle. Wanted me to check their pockets. The nerve. Ahem, the king was later found inside the castle trap door. He was turned sideways and was sorta jammed. My dad is an accountant: shock. My kids are the ‘most-likely-to’ out of all the cousins. Sigh.

    • Reply Becky Brown March 27, 2020 at 4:06 pm

      Uh … you had the castle? Can I please come over to play? I promise not to lose any pieces and to make sure the lady with the face mask ends up back in the hospital (although back in my day, we fought over “the white mommy” female figure because she was different than all the blue mommies).

  • Reply melissa March 28, 2020 at 6:55 pm

    THAT IS INSANE. Once I had a puzzle that had one extra piece. That was weird, but not nearly as annoying as your situation.
    The dogs did not eat?
    We are on the same kick–just finished 1000 piece Famous Writers puzzle. Nerd up!

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