A Very Long Short Sale: What Jenny Lawson Left Buried in Pearland

It “only” took 987 days to sell her Pearland home, Jenny Lawson announces. But did the Bloggess — and now bestselling author — shirk on that “No Zombies — sort of” guarantee she had offered on her single-story David Weekly model in Southern Trails back in 2010 when she first put it on the market? “In the middle of signing all of the paperwork,” she writes, “I mentioned to Victor that we should probably disclose that we buried that-guy-I-couldn’t-remember-the-name-of in our yard years ago and Victor looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Probably because you’re not supposed to say that in front of realtors. Then Victor told me to be quiet, but I mentioned that we’d probably go to hell for not digging the guy back up. Then Victor explained that I was talking about a saint I’d buried upside down in our front lawn to help sell the house and the realtor looked at us like we were insane because apparently she’s not Catholic. And technically neither are we, but at the time we were pretty desperate to sell the house and I was willing to bury just about anyone in the yard to stop having to pay two mortgages.”


“In the end,” Lawson continues, “we ended up having to bring a giant check to the signing so technically I’d say Saint Joseph and I failed each other.” The author of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened fled Southern Trails for the Hill Country several years ago. The 4-bedroom home on Bright Landing had been clinging to a $174,900 asking price since last month — down quite a bit from the $219K she had entertained 3 Mays ago.

I did, however, write a small note to the people buying our house which said “There’s a guy buried upside down under the oak tree in the front yard. He’s yours now if you want to dig him up. Hopefully he’ll bring you better luck than he brought us. There’s also half a cat buried in the backyard. No extra charge for either.

. . . Victor just pointed out that it sounded like I said I’d buried half a dead cat in the yard, which would be ridiculous and also gross. I buried a whole dead cat there but by now at least half of it would be decomposed and I wanted to be as honest as possible. Victor says sometimes honesty is not always the best policy.

Photo of statue from Discount Catholic Products: Jenny Lawson

9 Comment

  • oh, gosh!

    Doesn’t she know that the _seller_ is supposed to dig up St Joe and put him in a prominent location in her _new_ house???

    That is why you buy a nice statue, not a cheap one.

    Bad luck for The Bloggess.

  • Ok,……. creepy

  • add this to the growing list of goofy things that religion gets seemingly-rational people to do

  • Danny: I think she did all this to try to be ‘funny’ for her blog.

  • maybe so, who knows. but blog-or-not this silliness still prevails in our society.

  • I didn’t know it was possible to be crazier than my mother-in-law, but this lady has proven otherwise.

  • Blame it on religion if you want, Danny, but that’s plain old superstition, which the Bible forbids.

  • You folks really need off the Web and out more. This has been going on for eons. Sold my Midtown town home in three days using this method for asking price.

    And we Catholics are chock-full of superstition – now this lady, well she’s just an attention hag.

  • Oh good gravy, y’all, she’s a funny lady who tells funny stories for money. She’s not always a happy lady, and so being funny or doing funny things helps her fight that. Frankly, the very *earnestness* of Swamplot – the serious blowups and shouting matches about cornices or carpet, warehouses and retail, old and new homes & etc. – reminds me that we need to get out and do more humorous or delightful things more often.

    A good case in point is the closing on Lawson’s house. Everyone around her was so serious that they absolutely believed she couldn’t or shouldn’t be humorous when she said she’d buried a body in the yard! And the response to the article here on Swamplot is a screed about religion? Fiddlesticks. It makes me want to leave a rubber chicken on every neighbor’s doorstep. I hope someone leaves one on mine; I’m sure I need it.