#ImGoingToHell but hopefully I’ll sell my house first

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:

  1. Bury St. Joe BEFORE packing your garden tools. A spoon from your kitchen is not really a great alternative.
  2. Wear gloves.
  3. 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.


Look at St. Joe’s face. He’s bored as shit right now. Definitely doesn’t look like he wants to help sell my house. He’s like, Jesus Christ, people (or maybe, “My Son, people” ha ha) stop frickin’ burying me in the dirt!



And, oh, he’s made in China. China! I’m sure China really cares if my house sells!

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