I buried a St. Joseph statue in my yard.
Husband’s idea, not mine. I think it’s my nine-years-of-Catholic-school self that finds the idea of burying the statue of a saint UPSIDE DOWN morally repugnant.
But I was a dutiful wife (first time for everything, right?) and laid St. Joesph to rest next to our For Sale sign.
A few suggestions for those thinking of participating in this strange tradition:
- Bury St. Joe BEFORE packing your garden tools. A spoon from your kitchen is not really a great alternative.
- Wear gloves.
- Bury St. Joe BEFORE packing your gardening gloves. Or winter gloves. I might’ve mentioned before how much I hate bugs. And, yeah, the bugs don’t like me so much either when I invade their home. *Shudder*
But I did it. Come hell (and, yep, that’s probably where I’ll end up for doing this stint) or high water my house will sell.
Keep your fingers crossed for me. I really, really don’t want to go to hell.