Lost weekend

At 7:30 tomorrow morning, Irene will be at the door, ready to wisk me away for the weekend.
Lest you, or more specifically, lest TB jump to the wrong conclusion, allow me to clarify: Irene and I are not running away together. We are running away with a large all-female contingent.
The contingent is large, not the females.
Our mutual friend Kate has arranged the second-annual Girls’ Weekend. We’re meeting Kate in Dorval early tomorrow, then heading up to Gananoque, which is not far from Kingston, Ontario. There we will hook up with ladies from Ottawa and Toronto, spend an afteroon catching up, eat a fabulous meal in the hotel restaurant, then engage in girl talk til all hours of the morning (or midnight, given that we are all far too old to be up that late). We’ll spend the night in a lovely cottage that we’ll have all to ourselves, then breakfast together, and hang out until mid-afternoon.
It may not sound like much, but last year was a great weekend, and I’m really looking forward to this one. (Having said that, 7:30 a.m. seems suddenly really early for a Saturday morning. Of course, the departure time was my idea, since it gives us time to hit the Liz Claiborne outlet in Kingston. What the hell was I thinking?)
I’ve promised Dr. T. that we will, of course, wear short nighties to bed and engage in the occasional pillow-fight. That’s what girls do, after all.