There's Gotta be a Better Way to Sell a House!

When I announced that I was putting my house up for sale, approximately 1400 people told me to bury a statue of St. Joseph in my yard so my house would sell. I had no idea that selling a house was that simple. And here I thought you had to stage a house, clear out the clutter, repaint, clean, fix stuff, and list it for a reasonable price. Silly me! But I tend to be difficult and contrary so as scientifically sound as burying a statue undoubtedly is, I opted to skip the saint burial in favor of simply cleaning and fixing up my house.

While I was in Florida house-hunting, however, my parents buried the statue in my yard because, bless their hearts, they were certain that good ole Joe would help get my house sold. 


St. Joseph has helped thousands! Out of the six million or so houses that have been sold every year in the United States since the practice of burying St. Joseph started around 1979, thousands have been helped. Now I’m not mathy, but even I know that those are some pretty pathetic odds. I especially like the “Faith can move mountains . . . and homes!” on the box. What more proof could you want? Now, don’t get me wrong, I do believe in the power of prayer. But I think that burying a statue in order to quickly sell your house is ludicrous.

Here he is before my parents threw him in a hole in my yard.

Rest in peace.

I haven’t thought about the statue since I got back from Florida and Savannah showed me these pictures. Until Saturday, that is. 

We’ve had a lot of rain around here recently and after a particularly big downpour on Saturday, Savannah looked out the window and exclaimed, “The statue is coming out of the ground!”

Oh great, I thought. Joe was buried alive and now he’s mad. He’s digging his way out of the grave. That can’t be a good sign. It didn’t say anything on the box about St. Joseph emerging from the ground! I thought about googling what to do in this situation, but figured I’d just find information telling me to sacrifice a chicken over the burial spot while hopping on one foot and singing a song about tacos, and I wasn’t really willing to do that. Instead, I decided to blog about it.

So, today, I went outside to take a picture of the poor statue clawing his way out of the dirt, but when I got out there, he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I looked all around the burial site. I searched the surrounding area, kicking at the dirt, trying to catch a glimpse of the statue. 

He was nowhere to be found which leaves me to the only logical conclusion. St. Joe is a zombie and he’s running around my backyard, looking for brains (but he’ll probably settle for the plates of half-eaten cake that my kids have left out there). I hope.