They handed out new desk calendars in the newsroom last week.

In case you haven't noticed, the 2000s are almost over. In about 12 weeks, the decade-with-no-name will come to a merciful end. (And please don't call the past 10 years the "aughts" unless your name happens to be Jethro Bodine.)

In my lifetime, I cannot remember a decade ending with so little fanfare. Good riddance, I say. For America, the 2000s have been one massive headache.

Think back to 1999. Remember the Y2K scare? It seems laughable now. We were so soft back in 1999 that our biggest worry was whether the clocks on our computers would break. Poor babies.

But that was before 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the war in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, two stock-market crashes, the mortgage meltdown, H1N1 and the Great Recession.

As a nation we are weary, heartsick and grouchy. You can feel it our public discourse. Talk politics or religion with a stranger these days at your own peril.

It's enough to make you want to crawl into bed and cover your head. Frankly, we're mad as heck, and we're not going to take it anymore.

I'd like to pause this column now for a complete change of heart. I can't continue down this pity path.

The 2000s were the best years of my life, personally and professionally. I am disappointed to see the decade end.

My co-workers at the Times Free Press built a bigger, better newspaper. The newsroom performed valiantly through thick and thin.

On the home front, our first son was born in 2001 a few weeks after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Becoming a first-time dad at 43 was a wonder. The miracle of my son's tiny fingers and toes overshadowed anything going on in the world outside our house.

After my older son's birth, his mother and I moved into a new home in a neighborhood with cul-de-sacs. We joined a church and cultivated a circle of friends with young children. My wife became more beautiful with each passing year, and she continued to love me for no particular reason.

My mother died quietly from complications of Alzheimer's in 2006 with both of her children at her bedside. Nine months later, my second son was born and grew into the embodiment of his Grana's personality. Accident?

See, there are no bad decades, years or days when you have steady work, a supportive church family and a spouse and children who love you.

That is the lesson of the 2000s. When the big world turns rotten, stop and count the blessings in your own little world.

And, if you've been as lucky as I have, please don't resist the urge to drop to your knees.