Today marks a mini milestone for me: 900 days to FIRE! (early Oct. 2019 for those who don't want to do math).
Yes, it feels like a long ways to go right now, but acknowledging these milestones helps me visualize progress. In January, I still had 1,000 days to go. In July, it will be 800 days. PLUS: that 900 figure represents CALENDAR days. Actual work days (subtracting weekends, holidays, paid time off) drops it in the neighborhood of 600.
My job is usually pretty easy: I'm a creative copy writer. I'm well respected and very appreciated; well compensated for what I do. Never work overtime/weekends. The people I work with, including my bosses, are nice. And yet, I hate it. Can't help it. Which makes me feel a little guilty.
I actually have enough saved/invested to support myself now but I'm holding out for another 30 months because of what I believe will be a lucrative benefit: Lifetime company health care. I still have to pay the premiums, but since it's a ginormous international company, I'm guessing it will be more affordable than either COBRA or getting added to my wife's plan (and who knows what the hell to expect from the ACA). I can also add beneficiaries later. Once I turn 65, it resorts to secondary insurance to supplement Medicare.
I checked today and I do indeed need to be 55 or older (as opposed to retiring earlier in the calendar year when I turn 55). I can't get an estimate of premiums until I'm 180 days from retirement. Oh well. The best part is, if the shit hits the fan and I decide I can't stand it, I can pull the plug tomorrow and be fine.
Man, the waiting is hard.