I’m a puzzler. I’ve tackled jigsaw puzzles, word puzzles and occasionally number puzzles since I was a kid. And oh, the happy, smug satisfaction it brings.

I begin my day puzzling with my first cup of coffee. Every morning, I do three types of word puzzles on the computer. By the time I finish, my sleep-slit eyes are open, I’m vertical, and taking nourishment. Dear Richard refills my coffee cup. At bedtime, I do the newspaper puzzles.

Then this Christmas, to my delight, my grandson, Malcolm, gave me a jigsaw puzzle. A gift I would be thrilled to get every year.

This puzzle box is small, like a thick book. And yet it’s my favorite size – 1,000 pieces. I immediately thought about how long it had been since I’d done a puzzle and announced to Richard that the kitchen table was about to get crowded. We mostly eat in the den, so it’s not much of an imposition. And the light is much better than at the bigger dining room table.

I grinned at the cover of the puzzle box. Birds. Fifteen birds painted by a talented artist. The box explained that the painting was old but didn’t list the artist’s name. It’s on the puzzle itself, but after assembling the lower right-hand corner, it is unreadable. It doesn’t matter. The picture is still beautiful.

My only complaint is that the birds aren’t identified. The puzzle does not depict everyday cardinals, blue jays, or woodpeckers. I think one might be a chickadee but I’m not sure. Lots of brown-speckled birds and a couple of red-breasted specimens, but none of them look like my good old reliable backyard robins.

I decided, for the first time ever, to find out how much time a puzzle takes to complete. I remember nights when I’d sit down for “just a few minutes” while the 11 o’clock news played in the background. Then, in the time it took to assemble six or eight pieces, the late, late show was on.

So, before opening the box, I started a time sheet to track each puzzling session. Then, digging into the crowded box, I began looking for edge pieces. After an hour, I gave up looking for straight sides and decided to start assembling. I was able to put together most of the bottom frame (missing only 3 pieces) and a bit up each side. The bottom pieces are all green and brown, the shades changing as the grass and branches form the base of the bird gathering.

As I sorted through for edges, I kept spotting chartreuse and coral-colored pieces, easily collectible. A little cluster of each begged to be locked together, and soon I had the breast of one bird done and the outline of another. I was humming and happy while hunting. Total time Sunday afternoon, 3.5 hours.

Sunday night, I got in another 1.25 before the midnight eye strain set in. I told myself, “OK, it’s Sunday. You’re allowed to goof off.” But looking forward, I knew I’d get nothing done without limiting myself. So, the new timing exercise is actually a sensible idea! I’m restricting myself to only an hour during the daytime – as a break from worktime – and as much after supper as my eyes will allow.

On Monday afternoon, I recorded 1.5 hours of edge assembly, immediately sabotaging my time allotment. Using almost all the edge pieces I had found, the sides are solid. The top and bottom have gaps. I had to keep moving the assembled edging strips to fit on the table. A 19″ x 27″ puzzle on a round table doesn’t fit the same on each side. Duh. I think I finally have the size and shape in place with the help of a measuring tape. Monday night added another hour on the time sheet.

Now that the little pattern and color piles are forming, it’s time to organize with a few little dishes. It’s the only way to save space on the table. A dish of black and brown bird speckles. A dish of just beaks and eyes.

Another of wings and tail stripes. One of just grass. And one mounded with the ivory background color. I’ve realized this takes lots of additional time without putting any pieces together. This timing process is going to be very eye-opening. Or maybe eye closing, depending on the time of day.

I’m hosting Couples Bridge on March 21, and we’ll need the round kitchen table. The race is on. My non-nimble fingers and my dimming eyes are joining together with my pure joy of puzzling. We’ll see if I make it to the finish line in time.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com.