Squeezing one more day out of July doesn't seem a bad idea just now. For one thing, it's been a good month, overall. For another, it's been a demanding month, and meeting its demands in two-thirds the regulation number of days has stretched me to the snapping point.

Some time over the weekend, I thought I'd completed all the required elements. Sales tax return: check. Payroll tax deposits: check. That couldn't be all, could it?

Today when I found the truck license renewal form, due tomorrow, I wondered what else I've let slide under the pile in my in-basket. I started digging through papers with the kind of frenzy that passes for dedication instead of what it really is, desperation.

And I did find a few items I'd totally forgotten about, but none of them was so time-sensitive that it couldn't be put off for one more day. The trouble is, now there's just one more day to do them all in.

It's a perverse kind of challenge I give myself, scoffing at deadlines this way. I looked at the to-do list I made at the beginning of the month and felt intimidated by it at first, especially since I would be missing ten days for vacation. Then I started procrastinating, because, after all, none of them was due right away. Besides, there were always a half-dozen new challenges to deal with each day, so I had a perfect excuse to postpone whatever I could.

And now, here comes the final day. I think I'm ready for it, but my filing has been so haphazard that I can't be sure. Before I go to the post office tomorrow, I'll want to make one last sweep of the area, looking for mines and booby traps. I wouldn't be surprised if I have to go to the post office more than once tomorrow; that's happened.

It won't be until after the post office closes that the real panic will set in. Sure, I scoff at deadlines ... until they've passed.

As I was paying bills this afternoon (both mine and the Company's), I found two or three whose due dates had passed. I hate paying late fees, but this doesn't bother me as much as it used to. It's happened too many times for me to obsess over it any more. That's a terribly jaded attitude to have, and not worthy of someone scrimping to pay his satellite bill.

And truthfully, the only consequence of missing any of the deadlines I was referring to above is the same thing: a penalty here, an extra charge there, and maybe a horrified note from the IRS in about ten months, demanding I pay an extra seven dollars for filing a day late.

It's not worth the anxiety and alarm I put into it. But that wouldn't be me, would it?