I Am a Domestic Archaeologist

I find odd and unusual items in my house. Sometimes these discoveries are wrapped in a cloak of dust bunny mystery which must be solved. Like the scientist I might have become, had I been smarter, I always feel the need to discover the facts behind the mysteries.

Who knew that my own home would provide such a wealth of material for me to explore? I even went and bought a magnifying glass to look more authentic!

It all started on the day I first learned to use the vacuum. I made it about 17 years in my marriage without having to use the thing so it was time for me to up my skill set and surprise my travelling husband with a clean house. He would come home to see my achievements. I was excited.

The dusting, the mirrors, the smelly dogs, all of it was getting scrubbed. Then I get to the living room. Not wearing my glasses I sort of notice a small bright coloured object sitting on the fireplace  mantle. I pat myself repeatedly on the head, shit, no glasses perched. I squint up my face and get closer to the object.

Is that a small square of something orange? Nope, tiny triangle of deeply dyed, bright orange, covered in salt and it was triangular. Shit.

When the hell did we last have Doritos in the house? As I consider the timeline, and we approach Labor day, it makes me think about what happens to regular food. Anything else, except maybe Big Macs and Licorice, would have some sign of deterioration… or mold… or mouse bites. Not even rodents touch that crap.

And then bulb flicks on… oh my god… it was a Memorial Day Dorito!

It has been sitting there for many days weeks. It was an accusation of many shortcomings. Apparently, we are not clean people, we eat Doritos on Memorial Day, and we are wasteful because nobody finished that one. It was like a confrontation of shame from the chip bit.

I clean the living room, and find a sock…. and then another sock. I dig out a pair of dirty underpants from the sofa, and it has popcorn stuck to it. How did it stick? I don’t feel the need to investigate because I threw the gonch out. There are mysteries even a wannabe archaeologist won’t explore.

The final frontier was the toaster oven. More specifically, it was the crumb tray which is kind of like the midden of our family diet. If I wanted to play CSI, it would have been one of those epic laboratory scenes with crumbs in little piles. Some melted crap, and cheesy rubber stringy bits and many crumbs. I did some quick math as to how much it would take to just get a new toaster oven, and threw that old box out. The oven was broken so…. we can get a new one of those. Some murders shall remain unsolved.

I am ashamed by the remnant of the Memorial Day Dorito, truly I am. Also a bit more concerned by the idea that I have such a poor eye for detail, that maybe being an archaeologist isn’t something I can pursue. I never figured out how to use a microscope anyway.

I am however almost positive there is a market for bright orange junk food – the kind that learns to crawl under the sofa by itself. I would sell it in a spray bottle.

(This post originally ran on Magnolia Ripkin Advice Blog.)