"Grow your own dope: plant a man! " – Unknown
So, the house sale is shaky.
Inspection did not go well even though they made offer on home in AS IS condition. They are nervous and I am freaking out and not eating and want to vomit at any given moment.
My dear friend, JM, messaged me on Facebook to inquire. I share with her the scoop. She sends me back this message:
"of course u can (run away to chicago and sleep under her couch). i will keep a good thought.
stay strong, the beauty of our lives is that we have survived worse…
u can try the upside down st joseph statue.
seems like he owes u one."
The last two lines sent me into a puddle of tears. (JM lived with me in the maternity home and surrendered her son to Catholic Charities).
St. Joseph statue is part of some odd urban legend that burying one in your yard will sell your home.
However, St. Joseph is also the name of the hospital that my daughter was born in. The only place I got to hold her and talk to her. It was the place where I, three days post partum with raging episiotomy wound, handed my baby girl over to strangers through a river of crystalline tears.
Yes, JM, I agree. I think St. Joseph does indeed owe me one.