With the aid of a book on curating LEGO sets, my Saturn V Rocket and Grand Piano have been given their new homes in my living room. My dining table, which could have been mistaken for a remnant from a mad scientist’s laboratory, now stands empty and useless, except for Zoom calls and, well, dining.

My instruction booklets have been put away. The room is eerily silent. No screams of dismay from me. No clicking of pieces into place. My hands, steady and sure as I performed LEGO surgery, are now shaking. My throat is as dry as my wit.

I find LEGO Meetup groups online, but no LEGO support groups, which is what I really need. I watch videos of people assembling their LEGO projects. They look happy, but they don’t know what awaits them. They’re just one missing piece away from a complete breakdown. Another crisis brought on by the isolation of the pandemic.