Dear Diabolical Engineering Geniuses,
I would like to thank you for creating another brain-teaser puzzle/toy to keep me both occupied/entertained/frustrated while questioning my intelligence and adequacy. Back in the day, I got to feel this way when playing with a Rubics Cube. While my husband now insists there's a formula to solving it, one anyone can master, this toy remains a measure of superior intelligence in my eyes with only three people on earth able to assemble all the sides without popping the pieces out and reassembling. Which, I might note, IS a solution and a practical one.
Yesterday, I found myself in a similar situation: confronted with a maddening three-dimensional game in which I need to reconstruct the components in order to reveal the object trapped inside. I studied it. I analyzed the pieces, running different scenarios through my head. And then I started to "play." I pulled and twisted and turned and bent. I reassessed the situation. I looked for clues I had missed. I reminded myself about the Rubics Cube -- could there be a simple formula to this as well?
I became annoyed with myself. Appalled I was unable to solve the puzzle. Just like the Rubics Cube. Just like those little picture-rearranging games. Just like Sudoku. Just like assembling furniture from Ikea. "I am a smart person!" I shouted to no one.
"I have a master's degree!"
"I read!"
"Real books!"
"I watch documentaries!"
"I am well-respected by my professional peers who do not read my blog!"
"WHY MUST YOU VEX ME, STUPID PUZZLE?"
Yes, I was getting out of control at this point. And so, I decided that the game was over and I started tearing at the puzzle, madly destroying the shell and releasing the object inside.
I will admit that half way through this, I did start to see what the solution could have been.
By the time Jamie got back into the car (all right, yes, this all happened in about six minutes), he spied the destruction on my lap. "What the hell happened there?"
And so I had to explain my ass had been beaten again by puzzle designed by mad geniuses.
"Just so I"m clear, you are talking about the packaging for the cell phone charger I just bought, right?"
"Packaging. Evil Puzzled devised by demonic package engineers to make me feel stupid. Same difference."
"You do realize you could just have waited until we got home and cut it open with a pair of scissors. Like a normal person."
"That is not how they intended it to be opened. There was a system. There was a way to do it without using scissors."
"Clearly, there wasn't."
So thank you, Duracell Cell Phone AC Charger Model DU5203 Package Engineers for creating another experience test my brain, humble me, and start a fight with my husband who has still more ammo to prove the occasional ridiculousness of my problem solving skills. And who, by the way, didn't think this blog was funny at all.
