. . .
It was on a warm Memorial Day weekend when Aunt Karen asked about the box on our table, "What's this?" "That," I replied, "is something I've been meaning to bury."
This was our second shot at trying to sell our house, the first being B.S. (before Sam). The practice of trying to "stage" our house with twin 2 year olds and me 8 months pregnant wasn't really working for us, so we decided to pull off the market until 'spring', which meant until we could deal with the whole mess again.
We had had one honest-to-goodness offer the first time around, but unfortunately the buyers had to sell their house first so it just didn't happen. The same buyers were back in the spring and actually approached us while we were off the market, but again they failed to sell their house.
So it was back to trying to keep the house "clean". Ha Ha Ha! And hope for the best. That's where St. Joseph comes in. Bury him in your yard, ask him to intercede for you, and voila! No more showings.
So Aunt Karen took the twins out to the front yard, dug a hole with the shovel, and dropped in St. Joseph. No, I'm not sure if he was upside down, facing the entry, etc. But I did say a quick prayer to myself when I found out what was going on. Might as well do this sincerely. Then, true to form, we went camping. And forgot all about such material things as houses and statues and 'for sale' signs.
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