My retirement clock is dying.
In January of 2000, my dad sent me a clock labeled “Countdown to Retirement.” He was pretty pleased with himself for selecting such an appropriate gift for a bright-eyed girl who had just started her first “real job.” At the time, I think I had like 16,000+ days to work until I could retire (I can’t remember what age he based the countdown on…Jeff, can you do the math?) So, for all nine years of my professional life thus far, I have been keenly aware of how incredibly far away my retirement is. (I’m even more aware now thanks to Jeff’s faltering 401K and my diminishing TIAA-CREF fund.)
Well, last Friday, Jeff happened to be in my office, and he noticed right away that the screen on my digital retirement clock was…well, fading. And now it’s impossible to discern anything on the display besides the word “days,” which is somewhat fitting because it is days (and days and days and days) until I retire. A girl could get pretty depressed just thinking about it. And, let’s face it, with never-ending frigid temperatures and what feels like a total lack of sunlight this winter, this girl doesn’t need one more thing to bum her out.
I guess for now I’ll just hold on to the fact that it’s only 60 minutes until I can go home for the day.