I ran out of cold pills yesterday, the non-drowsy kind, so I took the last of the DayQuil in the middle of the afternoon when I felt myself starting to fade. I still have plenty of the pills that knock me out, and half a bottle of Nyquil, which does the same. I was looking forward to the day when I wouldn't have to take any of this stuff, but it's not happening yet.

I had a lovely talk with Julie, the Boss's girlfriend, who's very sympathetic and yet brutally honest. She doesn't think I have a cold at all, because the symptoms are the same as the flu that kept her out for five days, and then came back twice more for about the same amount of time.

Keep taking the pills, she tells me. Get lots of rest (this while the Boss is on the other line piling on the work). Drink water (I stopped this for a couple of days when I thought I was getting over it — big mistake).

So, even if I wanted to go to a True Millennium party and get hammered, which I most definitely do not, I wouldn't be able to. Because I'm getting Naturally Hammered. I get knocked down. But I get up again.

Birds know what's good for them, right? I mean, if I put out bits of stale bread, and an hour later it's gone, I can assume that it's because the birds know a nutritious snack when they see it. Right? Because I still have half a loaf, and I don't want to do any harm to my feathered friends. I want them to love me.

I think they're getting used to me. They don't land on my shoulder yet, or anything like that, but sometimes I can walk by and they won't fly away in a thunderous fluttering of wings. I still can't get very close, but that's only right. I wouldn't want them to trust just anyone, and they don't know me well enough yet.

Still, it makes me feel good when I can stand out in the yard and fling crumbs and seeds, and there's a blue jay or a couple of sparrows perched on a branch watching me without flinching. I'm looking forward to spring, when I can spend more time outdoors. Maybe I'll even be over my cold by then.

The check that I've been waiting for was finally waiting in the post office box today. This is the check I've been counting on to put the company checking account at the right year-end level, for tax purposes. At least, that's what the Boss and the CPA instructed me to do.

This check was for work we completed for the state in November, and it should have been here two weeks ago. If it had been, I wouldn't have been obsessing over it. The people in Sacramento have their own timetable, though, and they couldn't care less about mine.

Earlier this month the Boss decided he wanted to prepay one of our suppliers, because "they're having a hard time making payroll." I warned him that if we made this payment, we wouldn't meet our goal for cash in the account, unless the check from the state came in on time. "Let's take a chance," he said.

It came down to today, the last mail day of the year. I got the deposit ready, made a copy, and rushed to the bank, where I stood in line for half an hour. The teller told me the deposit wouldn't be posted until Wednesday, because of the holiday.

In other words, I spent half my morning, on a Saturday, running around in circles and getting nowhere. That's just what I felt like doing, too.