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This conversation reminds me of a magic necktie that I used to own.
It was kind of a matte red type deal with thin blue stripes. I don't remember where I got it, or even if it was mine or whether it was something someone left at my house.
Anyways, it was magic because no matter how many times I untied it, it would always miraculously retie itself.
The thing about double windsor knots: they look like solid and dignified - like maybe they could hold some weight. And any well-tied tie can hold its own when subject to the uncritical, everyday stresses of normal wear and tear. However, one pull in the right place and they completely unravel.
Occasionally, I'd be tidying up around the house and see this tie and want to put it away. I don't know why. It wasn't like the tie was hurting anything, just sitting there, existing. I wasn't even sure if the tie was mine; maybe if I left it out long enough, someone else would take care of it. Nevertheless, nine times out of ten I'd see it, pick it up, bring it to my closet, give it a well placed tug and with the buttery sound of ribbon rubbing against ribbon it would unravel and I'd be ready to put it away. But then all of a sudden, as I moved to place it in my closet, it would be retied. I'm not even sure how it happened, the timescale on which occurred seemed instantaneous. I'd be looking at it the whole time and it was just a flat piece of ribbon one instant and the next it was back in double windsor.
Sometimes I'd sit in front of my closet for hours unraveling the tie over and over again. It didn't always retie into a windsor either. Sometimes it would retie itself into some sort of exotic tangle so convoluted that I would spend hours straightening it out. Even though I knew that untying the tie would be useless because it would retie itself and I'd be back at square one, I was driven by a compulsive need for the tie to be untied, and geez, it was usually so easy to untie, and easy in a way that was also satisfying.
Eventually, after untold hours of therapy, I reached a point where I could mostly just ignore the tie when I saw it. I'd come across it, look it over and imagine how it would feel, the smooth friction of shiny fabric reverberating through my fingertips and up my forearm as I pulled the knot into oblivion. I'd let this thought wash over me for an instant, and then I'd remember how difficult it was to stop untying once I'd gotten started and I'd just keep walking.
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