When I sold my first house, I was in a bad way. I had actually just purchased the house a few months prior, and I was almost done with a complete kitchen renovation. Then the Divorce Fairy came to visit. I finished the kitchen and then listed the house. It was on the market for months, and it was a scary, horrible time – for me, and for the housing market.
After it had been on the market for about 6 months, my realtor asked me if I was a superstitious person. Why? I asked. He mentioned that yes, he knew I was Jewish, but many people trying to sell homes would bury a statue of St. Joseph upside down in the back yard. I’d never heard of that before, and thought it was amusing. (Even more amusing was the suggestion that I bury someone ELSE in the yard.)
I never actually followed through on the idea, and in about three more months the house finally sold. I hear the family who bought it is still happily living there. (They’d better be enjoying that quartz countertop!!!)
Fast forward three years and I’m helping Sherpa dig up half his lawn to put in a gravel patio. We are unearthing all sorts of little knick-knacks and treasures: bottles, doorknobs, tools, toys. Rather fascinating, actually – apparently before the houses had been built there the property had been an orchard. And then, out comes a little statue.
Look, a little plastic statue! He says. My jaw drops.
Do you know what that is?! I ask?
He didn’t have any idea what it was. I explained that the previous owner of his house must have buried it there when they were selling the place. He propped it up with the other doodads he’d found in the excavation and it stayed there all winter.
And now another year later I’m selling yet another house. So the little St. Joseph? It’s on its way to my garden. I know I’m Jewish, but hey, any port in a storm, right?