Your hands learn a handful of knots, square and clove and lark's head, and then it becomes meditative repetition you can do while half-watching a show.

The satisfaction is watching flat cord turn into texture and a hanger taking shape.

The friction is fussy: tension that drifts uneven, miscounted rows you have to unpick, and shedding cord ends everywhere. It's forgiving to start and quietly addictive once the pattern clicks.