Monday, February 25, 2019

the mole man

we used to have a mole man - the first time he showed up, the countryside grapevine had told him we had a mole problem that needed solving and he came. he took 10 kroner per mole he caught and occasionally, he came to the back door (which opens directly into my kitchen) with one or two in hand, as proof that he was catching them. he would enter without knocking. he was a retired mailman, in his 70s and had a country twang that i, as a non-native speaker of eanish, struggled to understand. when he had caught enough moles, he would come to that back door with his little pencil-scribbled note, asking for 180kr. or maybe 210. cash only, please, he didn't believe in all that netbanking or mobilepay app business. once, i was showing him the way down a tree-lined path to our little apple orchard, where there was an especially pesky mole infestation, and he remarked that it was very romantic. i assured him that it was not. the mole man did not represent romance to me. last year, he got cancer. i'm not sure if he died or not, but he doesn't answer the call of the countryside grapevine anymore. i can't even look him up, because i never knew his name. he was just muldvarpmanden. and now, husband is trying his hand at catching moles himself. and they are mocking him.

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