What with my inability to understand an earnings report, and the fact that I tune out whenever the radio announcer says, ``advancing issues led declines,'' I've always sensed I wasn't CEO material.

Yesterday that was confirmed for me, when I read about L. Dennis Kozlowski's $6,000 shower curtain, Kozlowski being the former chief executive of Tyco International, and the $6,000 curtain being made out of - what? - gold, or maybe the paintings stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum?

The curtain came to light in an internal investigation of the lavish lifestyles of many former Tyco executives, and while shareholders rightly were outraged, my first thought was not to raise a fist against corporate greed, but to wonder where you buy something like that (Do the rich have access to secret stores?). My second thought was to worry about getting it wet.

The report didn't reveal which bathroom the $6,000 shower curtain graces, so we're left to guess. If it were mine, I'm not sure where I'd put it. Not in the master bath, because why have something that nice if no one's going to see it? But not in the guest bath either, because everyone knows you can't trust strangers to put the liner in place. Maybe I'd hang it in the living room, as one would a tapestry.

The report also revealed that Kozlowski had the company secretly pay $17,000 for something described as a ``traveling toilet box.''

I don't know about your toiletries case (or box), but the inside of mine sometimes gets smeared with toothpaste and shampoo. At $20, this is not a problem, because I can wash it or throw it away and buy a new one, but at $17,000, I'd think twice about packing Pert, or anything except floss for that matter.

Although, I guess if you're living the $17,000-toilet-box lifestyle, you can buy shampoo when you get where you're going, even though they always rip you off in the hotel gift shop.

Or, maybe you're staying in places that stock the bathrooms with fancy shmancy shampoo (and all the other toiletries you need, too) so there would be no need to actually put anything in your toilet box. You'd merely bring it along to impress the hotel maid, or the screener rummaging through your luggage at the airport.

Kozlowski also had the company foot the bill for a $2,900 set of coat hangers (which seem almost reasonable in comparison to the toilet box), and for two sets of sheets worth - or at least costing - $5,960.

The report took four months to compile, but even so, some crucial information is left out:

What kind of thread count are we talking about here? And what color were the sheets? Celadon? Burnt sand? Hamptons? Were pillow shams included?

The thing that really gets me about the sheets is this: Who could get any sleep on something so expensive? I'd be up all night stressing about wrinkling them, or drooling on the pillowcase.

If there were any surprises in the report, beyond the fact that someone would want a $15,000 dog umbrella stand, it's the $6,300 outlay for a sewing basket, and the $445 expenditure on a pin cushion. Perhaps Mr. Kozlowski has a thrifty side, and was darning his socks as he sailed around on his yacht.

The report also reveals that the company footed the bill for a $7 million apartment on Park Avenue for Kozlowski's former wife, which once again shows that money can't buy happiness, marital or otherwise, although it can buy a $2,200 gilt metal wastebasket, which is almost as good, I guess. At least until the lawyers come sniffing around.