22 years, 24 days, 6 hours. That’s the amount of time between this evening and my first date of retirement eligibility. I didn’t start out the day with that stuck in my head. What I was really focused on is what an utter disappointment Mondays are in the grand scheme of things. Monday is the week’s little way of pissing on your leg and calling it rain.

Maybe somewhere there is a happy group of people who leap out of bed on Monday mornings excited and ready to get back to their cubes to get started on the exciting week ahead. It’s a good bet that I’m never going to be that kind of person. The best I can manage on Monday is a grudging acknowledgement that at least Friday afternoon is a few hours closer… and if I really want to put on my optimist hat, I can always do some quick math and find out that there are only another 1,147 Mondays standing between me and having the right combination of age and years of service to qualify to retire. Eligibility, of course, doesn’t mean that it makes financial sense to hit eject, but that’s going to have to be a separate discussion.

But hey, looking on the bright side, in less than three years, I’ll have whittled down the number of Mondays into the triple digits. Wow. Yeah. That’s depressing. Stupid Mondays.