I had the windows open again last night and this made for a disturbed sleep as people walked by having their Saturday night fun (isn't college out?). No one was really whooping it up, but every spoken word seemed to wake me. One group I remember in particular was four guys, which I know because I got up and looked out the window to see if they were actually moving or just hanging out outside. There were a lot of four letter words from them, and they possibly thought themselves to be some sort of gang. Geneva is easily walkable, and therefore the bad and nice parts of town are defined by the kinds of houses and not the kinds of people you see on the street. Then at one point I heard a guy who seemed to be talking on the phone saying that he did not have sex with some girl. And I believe that was related to the climax (accidental pun, sorry) of the night.
At 5:30 AM I was awakened to the sound of a young woman insisting that a door be opened. I got up to watch part of this before deciding that she'd be really embarassed if she saw me and getting back into bed. Blond girl in green dress, standing at the door of the apartment across the street, where I lived Nov-Dec. She went on about how this was her apartment and she'd left the bed made and now it was unmade (I'm not sure how she knew this from outside unless the guy was dumb and didn't draw the shades) and wanted to know if he'd slept with a girl who was only referred to as "her." The guy repeatedly mumbled the negative and said at one point that the bed was unmade because he'd been sleeping in it. I remember her saying "I have a right to know," at one point, but otherwise I don't remember any more detail and don't know what the conclusion was.
The people I've seen coming and going from that apartment (it's a 1-bedroom that's almost a studio, but she must have frequent guests) are pretty people. Attractive, well-dressed, seemingly wealthy, and have zero interest in interacting with me (or Dan, when he's tried). I couldn't help but feel smug that although they probably look down on me, I have maintained a happy, mature, stable, trusting relationship for fifteen months now. Whether or not this guy cheated on this girl, she obviously does not trust him. (Or maybe he's just a friend whom she does not want having sex in her bed.) The tonality of the conversation also seemed a bit immature.
Spent the first part of yesterday grumpy, I think from headache recovery. I realized during the first concert (which was thankfully inside) that I was pretty out of it. I was alert for the evening concert, but also really sad to be leaving that group (the Finger Lakes Concert Band). I have everyone's email addresses, so I might send a mass email today saying how nice it was to be in that group, even for just a year and a half. Harv has been lending me a cup mute this whole time, which he has now given to me. Harv is almost eighty-five and is the son of a Dartmouth 1909 coronet player.
I tried to mail Oliver some wine yesterday to thank him for the CD, only to find that the post office will not take it. Something about it being flammable... sure... The only advice they could give me was to talk to a local winery and see how they did it. The owner of the winery that I bought this bottle from has recently died, and they're a really small place, so I don't feel like bugging them right now. A bit of googling revealed that the laws for mailing wine in the United States are really complicated and vary from state to state. I think my options right now are to just give the wine to him (or Kim, if he's not around) in August, or to order a different bottle from one of the two wineries in the Finger Lakes that is willing to ship to Massachusetts. I kind of liked the thought of giving this particular wine to Oliver though - being a non-drinker I have no idea what it tastes like, but it is described as eclectic, and it is made from a bunch of different grapes in Cornell's collection.