I would like to reinvent myself. First of all, the name. Let me introduce myself: I am Norah Henderson.

I am thirty, single. Lithe, with perhaps spiky, lavender hair. I ride my bicycle everywhere, as I am so concerned with the planet. As a result, I have very firm calves and could crack walnuts between my knees. My eyes are keen, and my teeth sparkle.

My Abyssinian cat, Harold, resists walking on a leash, but I keep trying. Harold and I love tuna, and we have it for dinner once a week. Harold and I binge watch Game of Thrones. He hides his eyes with his paws during much of the violence.

I am a poet. Non-rhyming variety.

Although I hate to garden, I have very good luck with orchids. The windowsills in my New York apartment are lined with them. Just an ice cube in the pots once in a while does the trick, and my friends are dazzled by the display. I have dabbled in African Violets, but with little success. I have two pots of edible grass in the window by the tub in my bathroom, for Harold. He nibbles away at them, and then he barfs. Good for the digestion, I hear.

I almost got married last year. However, Bart’s dog Skid seemed to want to eat Harold. It was Bart or Harold. A no-brainer. Actually, Bart’s obsession with veganism was starting to wear thin. So Bart loaded his mushroom collection and Skid’s memory foam dog bed into the back of his PT Cruiser and headed out of town.

I love New York, but the noise and grime does wear one down. Harold wants to move to the country, where he would consent to leash walks. I think he is lying about that. But I have been scanning the listings, and there is a small, gray bungalow with moss green shutters that I keep coming back to. It says “cozy, all furnishings included.” The pictures of the living room alone are a riot of chintz and polished hardwood. The kitchen has a soapstone sink and a fireplace. The price is within my range.  Also, Harold’s soulful staring from the living room window at the park below as he mutters to himself–that bothers me. I think he might be right. I dream now about cross ventilation and bird feeders.

I told him that if we moved, I would want to get a small dog. Harold is considering it.



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