Little things ...

As I settle into my new space, it's the little things that are keeping me busy now.

A new shower caddy for my bathroom. A new bathmat for the guest bathroom. A trash can for the den. The list is a long one.

But I'm getting there.

I like the new apartment a lot. But I haven't developed the patterns and pathways yet. Coming out of the kitchen, I have to think about which way to turn to get to the linen closet. If I'm in the dining room, I have to stop for an instant and plot the way to the coat closet.

These things will become automatic -- quickly, I hope

But no matter where I live, there are touchstones in my life that go back to my boyhood.

Those of you who live in Richmond or have lived here know what a cause for celebration it is that Hanover tomatoes are beginning to come in. (Hanover is a county north of Richmond that is famed for its tomatoes; it has something to do with the soil.)

For lunch today in my new apartment, I had a Hanover tomato sandwich with Duke's mayonnaise on white bread. The first taste of the season's local tomatoes is an experience almost like ecstasy. When I was a child, my father taught me the ritual. We'd take a salt shaker out to the backyard garden, pick the first ripe, warmed-by-the-sun tomatoes from the vine, salt them and eat them right there on the spot. Does anything ever taste so delicious?

When I grew up and had my own garden, I continued to eat the season's first tomato in just that way.

Alas, I no longer have a backyard. But this year's first tomato, bought from a farmer's stand here in town, was just as good.

The little things can also bring great satisfaction.

Not yet the end

Last night was the first I spent here in my new apartment.

I slept well.

But the big adventure is not over.

Not by a long shot.

The picture is of the corner of the living room that looks the best tonight.

The art, which you can see stacked under the window, will be hung Monday afternoon. I'll have some expert help with that. It'll make a big difference in the way the place looks.

But there will still be a big empty space in the middle of the dining room. I have yet to buy a table; the table I used to have was too big for the space. Maybe I can go shopping next week. Right now, the "look" is spare. Or perhaps I should call it Minimalist.

The packers, movers and unpackers did a great job. They took photographs and kept records of where every item -- large or small -- was and ought to be. At one point I counted six people from the moving company at work in the apartment. They even brought the remote control to the alarm system at the old house and put it on the exact table in the precise spot here in my new home. I took it back to the old house today.

As they were leaving, the guys that handle the furniture turned around and came back when I decided I wanted a chest of drawers moved to a different spot. And this was at the end of a l-o-n-g day.

I'm finding everything I need. Sometimes it takes me a few minutes. It took me a while last night to find the bag of cat food. But once I stopped and thought about where it ought to be, I found it -- in the closet closest to Cassie's food bowl.

Speaking of Cassie, she's been busily exploring, apparently in 20 minute bursts. Then she'll settle down on my lap or near me until some sound or noise beckons, and she's off to investigate.

The cable installer came today, and was extremely knowledgeable about how to connect my TiVo, add a new cable card, reset the TiVo for a new cable system, and set up my wireless router to provide Internet service for my PC and my netbook.

But there are still so many little things to do before I sleep tonight.

And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, too.

Out of here

This will be my last post from the old house.

It's 9:30 a.m. on Wednesday, June 19.

I'll miss it ... but not too much.

Five people are here, loading all of my earthly possessions onto a truck for the move to the new apartment.

They're actually waiting for me to finish up at the computer desk, and then that too will go out the door.

That's why this post is so short.

It's working as planned

And so it begins in earnest.

As I write this on Tuesday morning at 11:39, two very efficient women from Door to Door Solutions are carefully and scrupulously packing everything in preparation for tomorrow's move.

They're good. Really good.

They also have all the supplies they need to do it right. In the past week, I've already moved about six boxes of stuff to the apartment on my own. I did not have the right supplies. I was not as organized as these two women are. My bad.

It's disconcerting. There are boxes everywhere. I keep having to look for a pencil or pen to jot things down. The fridge has a bottle of soda, half of a sandwich, and a container of yogurt in it. That's all. I'll be on my own for dinner tonight. It'll probably be a double cheeseburger from McDonald's.

They're not packing the coffee maker. I'll definitely need that tomorrow morning.

Hiring a company that packs, moves, and unpacks my belongings has made this so much easier than it might have been. Hiring a designer, who came up with an imaginative floor plan and will be on site tomorrow to supervise placement, was also a smart idea. A friend -- a former curator at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts and a colleague for three decades -- badgered me into using a designer. Thanks, Maggie!

Tonight I'll have my TV and my computer, a bed, a lamp, and a chair to sit in while I read, and my morning supplies: toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream, mouthwash, shampoo and soap.

Everything else will be packed, wrapped, secured, boxed or padded, and waiting for the movers at 9 a.m.

Sure, I'm stressed. I expected to be.

But the move is going exactly as planned.

And that's the good news on Tuesday, June 18, 2013.

The countertop to-do list

There might be a better way to do it.

In fact, I'm sure there must be a better way. Perhaps I should set up a spreadsheet, with check boxes, on my computer.

But I've chosen to use sticky notes on the kitchen counter.

Decades ago, my friend Walter "officially" inducted me into the Virgo Tidy Corps. Virgos like us want our lives to be neat, orderly and organized. We both fit the description.

I'm getting even more organized now because the big move is just a week away. I'll be going from homeowner to apartment dweller.

And there are so many things I have to remember to do in the next week. I've gotten a lot done already, but it seems like every few hours I think of one more thing I have to do.

So I started jotting my to-do list on sticky notes and putting them in a spot that I look at a lot -- next to the Mr. Coffee machine on the countertop in the kitchen.

(I'm not sure I could get through this without coffee. Or my sticky notes.)

They change daily, sometimes twice or three times a day. I remember something I have to do, I write it down, and when it's done, the sticky note goes into the trash.

Sure, it looks amateurish.

But it works for me.

And it's very satisfying to complete a task and toss the note away.

We Virgos are like that.

But always lurking in the back of my mind is the fact that my membership in the Virgo Tidy Corps is at risk.

I'm certain that Walter would be using Excel.

Hat trick

Home is where you hang your hat.

So the first of my worldly stuff that I took into the new apartment today was one of my hats. It's now hanging in the big closet in what will be my bedroom.

The process of moving continues, and the pace is picking up.

Tomorrow, somebody with far more taste than I'll ever have is taking a look at the new space and will offer suggestions on furniture placement.

This is a good thing, because I'm not as visually literate as you might think I'd be. If you know that I worked at an art museum for three decades, you'd think I might have at least metabolized something about the visual world. Not true. I'm in my comfort zone with words more so than with images -- ergo Cogito.

This is not to say I am devoid of ideas for this new place where I will be hanging more hats in days to come. But a small voice keeps whispering in my ear: Your design sense is pedestrian. So, I'm looking forward to expert suggestions.

I spent about a half hour in the apartment today, checking on little things and getting comfortable with the layout. I determined that both front door keys worked, the mailbox key works, and -- yes -- there really is as much closet space as I remembered, probably more than I have in my two-story house.

And one more thing I checked: The windowsills are wide enough for Cassie to sit on.

She's more visual than I am. She'll relish the view from the 9th floor.