astro not

The problem with time travel is that you’re never sure exactly where you ended up. Honestly, I can’t tell my Paleozoic from my Mesozoic at this point. All I know for certain is that all those hours watching Alone and Naked and Afraid to learn what plants you can and can’t eat were completely wasted now I’m sitting underneath a fern that’s six feet across.

Luckily the small furry animals here are just as susceptible to a pointy stick as they were in the time I left. A few good jabs and I’m looking at a new pair of boots.

Originally I was concerned that not wearing socks would cause my feet to become all scaly and blistered, but I’m happy to report just the opposite.

My feet have never been softer.

Really. You’d never guess I spend my days running away from large predatory birds and mice the size of a tiger. My feet don’t even get too sweaty.

The weird thing is how my feet smell now.

Awesome. They smell awesome.

And the boots themselves?

Even better.

I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent in front of the campfire smelling my boots. While all around a variety of large predators are lurking and slinking around, my eyes are closed and my nose is buried deep in a boot.

I can’t even describe the smell. Musky? Earthy? A bit prehistoric?

Sure. All of the above and then some. Would make a hell of a cologne.

The moon looks the same. I’m not sure why, but I assumed it would either be closer or further away, but nope. Same spot in the sky.

Clouds?

Ditto.

It rains and then it’s sunny and then a volcano erupts and fills the air with burning ashes and you have to lay in a pond until it all passes. (Apparently before 150 million years ago it’s lay, after that it’s lie) You’d think that the boots would get all ratty and gross after being submerged for hours at a time, but not at all. In fact, I emerged with feet softer than a newborn’s.

And when I tell you that the mosquitoes are terrible wherever/whenever I am, believe it. Thing is, they don’t bite me below the knees. The scent of the boots seems to keep them at bay. If it wasn’t so damn hot I’d make an entire suit out of the furry animals that provided the material for my boots. I’d look like a damn bear.

Which would explain to some degree my newfound hobby of rubbing myself against a tree when the aforementioned bloodsuckers leave an itchy bite that I can’t reach with my arms.

It sometimes hits me that as the first person to be here, it’s the first time that a person ever thought about molecules. And anything else I think about.

So how did I get here?

How did I travel back in time?

Is that all you can think about? I’m trying to tell you how soft my feet have gotten. Impossibly soft. When I touch them I don’t know where my finger stops and my foot begins.

So far attempts to fashion a musical instrument from the surrounding vegetation have been unsuccessful.