I often hear people talk about how nice it is to be curled up indoors, warm and cozy, while it rains outside. But no one talks about the utter state of transcendent bliss that is being outdoors in your top-of-the-line, recommended-by-all-the-hottest-archaeologists, wildly expensive but oh-so worth it rain gear, warm and dry while it pours around you.
That you're eventually going to get soaked through may be inevitable, but like so many things in life, the fragility of this perfect state of being is part of its charm. For a brief window in time you are an impenetrable fortress of coziness, smashing through the forest with impunity thanks to your thick, rubbery shell. You cast your consciousness into each dry and toasty part of your body in turn, celebrating all the choices in your life that led to being able to savour this particular slice of heaven on earth.
Wait a minute - are you getting paid for this?! You pinch yourself just to be sure you didn't roll your truck on the drive to site and are actually experiencing some sort of outdoorswoman's fantasy afterlife. Hm, seems real enough, but you check your pockets anyway and find... ah. Beef jerky and a sad apple. The food would be way better in your fantasy afterlife so you're pretty sure you're still alive.
At some point, regular old earth-on-earth will yank you back to reality, perhaps by way of a cold, creeping dampness in your sleeve cuffs, or sweating through your base layers so thoroughly that you're just as soaked as if you hadn't worn rain gear at all. You try to cling to that prior, blissful state, but it is spoiled by the knowledge that it's only a matter of time before your feet start to squidge inside your boots and you'll have to eat that fucking apple and you'll start to wonder, Am I getting paid enough for this?
So you let the feeling go - for now. Perhaps you'll experience it again tomorrow, or maybe not until next season, but you know you'll experience it again sometime. You smile a wistful smile, send a small prayer of gratitude to your archaeologist pals for their excellent rain gear recommendations, and continue trudging through the forest. Damply.
