Some unrelated notes

All the coverage of the East Asian tsunami has made something clear to me that I hadn't really understood before: thousands of Westerners go to bitterly impoverished third world countries for fun. Not even to see what is unique or informative about those places, but simply to go to the beach. All the photographs have made it obvious that, in order to get to this beach -- and I'll take it on faith that it's a lovely beach, absolutely splendid -- one must walk past squalid shacks crammed with people living in poverty, poverty which is indirectly caused by those westerners' lavish livestyles. Aren't they embarrassed? Obviously not, since even now, tourists staying in unaffected hotels tramp right through devastated areas to sunbathe at those very same beaches -- and indeed, why stop now? For some people, embarassment is simply impossible. Those are the sort of people who become most successful in the world.

After the events and avalanche of news coverage of Sep. 11, 2001, I felt that things had been a little overdone. Remember the way people were bleating "Nothing will ever be the same!" Geez, I thought, it was pretty severe, but let's face it, what happened is some planes were hijacked and some buildings fell down; fewer than 3000 people died. The tsunami, now that's a real catastrophe. To its credit, CNN is using the same Day Six tactic of showing a montage of heart-rending photographs backed by self-conscious pseudo-classical music, the title of which must be First Came The Tragedy, Now Comes The Montage, And Finally The Healing.

At home, we have developed a system where Six gets the run of most of the house during the daylight hours, while the other two cats -- the ones who really live here -- get the run of the basement and the garden. Then in the evening, Six gets confined to the living room, and the other cats get the kitchen, the office, and the bathroom (where they like drinking from the faucet). Today Six made the most of his opportunity, getting maximum petting and playtime. As evening approached and I had to turn Milagrito away from the door to the house proper for the seventh time, I asked Cris if we could put Six away in the living room a little early because Milagrito was getting short shrift. She agreed, and we welcomed Milagrito into the kitchen. Half an hour later he fell asleep there for what is now a three-hour nap. Lot of fun he's having.

My sickness gave me the opportunity to do absolutely nothing -- to lie flat, without even feeling like I ought to read something; to fall asleep whenever I wanted, to ask to be brought ice cubes from the hotel's ice machine. It was awfully nice to do absolutely nothing, at least once I'd stopped throwing up every hour. Perhaps the time I was sick can be counted as part of my vacation after all.

After an hour of reading backlogged New Yorker magazines, I wanted nothing more than to go to New York to see some theater. Wait -- that's just what we did. But we always see Broadway. We'll have to be more adventurous.

I am so glad I don't have to go back to work tomorrow, that tomorrow is Sunday. In fact, I wish I had one more day after that. But back to work it shall be, after a morning spent at previously scheduled doctor and dentist appointments.