Assembling delight. One piece at a time.
Someone showing up at a party, box in hand, stiffly packed with crazily-shaped colored tiles, wouldn’t normally get me all hot and bothered. I mean. Does my addled brain really need another puzzle? Is it a Liberty Puzzle? Fuck yeah. I’m in.
When MY NEW FAVORITE PUZZLE puzzle walks in the room, I take notice. We all take notice. Save for those poor souls ignorant of this mental spa day. Anyway… Seeing the blue box walking through a party is only foreplay. Opening the box…well…
You first encounter two folds of colored tissue paper. Elegant. A welcoming embrace around their tiny treasures.
When the tissue paper is pulled away, the sweet, old smell of fresh-cut-wood, burnt slightly from processing, hits you. This experience triggers all sorts of lovely things in your medulla oblongata. Not unlike an orgasm.
Yes. I said it. Opening this box is almost as good as a big O. The only other creature that gets this excited by unboxing is our Westie on BarkBox day. Liberty Puzzles are BarkBox for humans.
Assembling the puzzle. The sorting alone stresses the readers. But. It’s the endorphins, man. Your pleasure sensors are so starved in the solving of this puzzle when you get a hit, it’s a tiny little rush of wonderfulness.
We, our friends, circulate our puzzles with each other. I mean, at a $100 a pop (or more) Liberty doesn’t come cheap. 😋 I had this notion of starting a website where Liberty puzzle owners can swap with each other. Maybe call it Liberty Swap dot com. On second thought, maybe not.
In our recent exchange, I received one of Liberty’s limited editions. According to the card inside, staff and friends get these at the end of the year. On this particular one, there’s NO guiding photo on the box! What’s the puzzle? I won’t know till I’ve built it? WFT? Turns out you have to be a masochist to work for this company. I like it.
Give yourselves a break from the tyranny of the news. Allow a moment’s respite to heal you. Build a happy puzzle.