I can still fit it over my head and put my arms through the holes, so technically the hoodie is still “wearable.” Yes, technically speaking I can still “wear” this “hoodie” even though the drawstring has been pulled all the way out. But since I’m not trying to look like a “total” “freak,” I don’t have much of a “choice.” I’m going to have to throw it away.
I shouldn’t blame the dryer, but I do. Last night I woke up in a cold sweat after dreaming of a dryer with a demonic face grinning as several hoodies turned inside its mouth, the drawstring in each on the precipice of falling out. This isn’t the first time I’ve had this nightmare. I know they’ll go away eventually, but even then, how am I supposed to breathe peacefully from here on out knowing that at any second while my hoodie is in that machine, it might be rendered totally and completely useless? A life lived in fear isn’t a life. Also, a life where you let your clothes air-dry isn’t a life either. This isn’t the 1800’s.
Are there ways to get the drawstring back in? Sure. Do any of them end with the hoodie not looking like it was run through a grain thresher? Nope. I’m not going to mutilate my favorite hoodie by cutting slits into drawstring-hole. A buddy of mine does that with his hoodies and it makes him look like the kind of guy who cuts his own hair with a cleaver.
Someone suggested I cut the ends off the drawstrings and sew them into the hole so that they look properly strung. As if I can live a good and fulfilling life in the fall, winter, and early spring, as the leaves change color and the air turns brisk and then cold and then thick, knowing that I’m a huge phony. Can you imagine the look on my friends’ faces when they teasingly pull at the two ends of the string to tighten the hood around my face only to find the ends don’t attach? Just thinking about that makes me want to put this hoodie in a rocket ship and send it straight to the freaking sun.
Shoes in need of a repair? No problem. Wristwatch having some issues? A batshit crazy guy who’s devoted his entire life to the tiniest pieces of machinery known to mankind can fix that for you. But there’s no hoodie doctor. You take your drawstringless hoodie to a tailor and they’ll just smile sadly at you and shake their head. “There is nothing we can do,” they’ll say. “There is nothing anyone can do.” And in the middle of the tailor’s shop, to the chagrin of the tailors, you will fall to the floor and weep — for yourself, for the article of clothing you once loved, and most of all, for society. Because apparently this is a problem without a solution. The final, impossible frontier.
Am I being dramatic? Probably. There are bigger setbacks in the world. Still, there’s something about the drawstring in my hoodie falling out that makes me want to practice my armstand dive off the Brooklyn Bridge.
It’s sort of like when someone eats your leftovers. It’s not the worst thing that could happen, but it’s just inconvenient enough to make you consider hiring a private detective. Which is irrational, yes, but you know what? I can be a little irrational.
I have to throw it away. However, I think I’m going to keep the drawstring. It might come in handy in the future if I need to do some creative problem-solving.