Back home in San Francisco, having spent two days trying to sleep at night and stay awake during the day, rather than the opposite, I reveled in having Benji around the Button Hole. Unlike Katie and Marzipan, and to a lesser extent, Chris, he knew next to nothing of my long string of relationship follies, and I delighted in having fresh, clean ears into which to pour long stories about my new romance. He was also a very good sport about the whole straight/gay issue, listening to and validating my arguments that love, being blind and all, pays no heed to such labels. Only once was Katie unable to resist the urge to cry out from her sewing station, “Love is blind, it’s not stupid!”
By my third day at home I was starting to feel rested up again, and was willing the days on my calendar to fal
