Yesterday I left the office early and went home to work on my new memoir about a man's heroic battle with his kidney stone, tentatively titled "Drink, Pee, Scream."

But, concerned about finding the right publisher, I put it aside and picked up Ryszard Kapuscinski's Travels with Herodotus. I slipped on some Bach arias and went out to read on the balcony. It was a gorgeous spring afternoon, one of our last before humidity comes in for its six-month visit.

And as I sat there, listening to the exquisite voice of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, reading about Kapuscinski's first visit to Egypt, I thought: This is what everyone needs once in a while - a break from the world, a moment to sit, removed from all responsibilities, pressures, demands. A time to appreciate being alive.

Later in the day I got a call from my friend David. I asked him if he'd ever had a kidney stone, and he said, yes, once, on an airplane. He described the experience - the pain, the confinement, the sweating, the stares from fellow passengers - and said that since then he has never flown without some morphine handy.

The next time I'm uncomfortable in coach (with luck, this Friday), I'm going to say to myself: I could be having a kidney stone attack. This should do more than the reinstatement of meal service to make me feel better.