Well, that’s about it. Friday is the first day of the “end times” — at least as far as 2017 is concerned.

Remember back on Jan. 1, when 2017 was fresh and new — and, after sobering up, you thought you had all the time in the world to accomplish something significant “this year?”

How’d it go? Did you get that job, divorce, spouse, degree, waist size or project that you vowed to get done this year? I ask only because hope isn’t gone. There’s still time.

At midnight Thursday, there will be 31 days, or 744 hours, or 44,640 minutes to accomplish what you swore you would do this year.

It’s not just you. I made goals, vows and covenants (yes, some with Satan) as well. You see, 2017 was going to be the year that I…well, I can’t remember. I’ll have to check my daily journal.

Yes, I keep a daily journal. I started in high school when a therapist became alarmed at my inability to remember days or events more clearly or even at all. Perhaps some sort of tangible record keeping was in order.

He told me to start writing a daily journal. What he should have said is, “Stop taking mescaline.” No matter. It worked out. Eventually (April 20, 1973) I quit hallucinogens. But here I am, nearly half a century later, still keeping this @%#* journal.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Let’s flip back to the beginning of 2017 and see how disappointed I should be in myself — or what I can still accomplish in the next 44,640 minutes.

It seems I made five resolutions Jan. 3. It was a late start, which may explain why I promptly forgot two of them: Acquire a full scale 24-pound Napoleon field gun, and invest heavily in Tannerite (a legal explosive).

I don’t even know why I made those resolutions because there’s no way my wife would have let me keep them in the first place. Which brings me to the three resolutions I made and remembered.

• “Do whatever the wife says when it comes to financial, medical or legal matters.”

Since I was constantly reminded of this resolution, I was able to more or less keep it. I’m still alive, not in jail, and I get an allowance.

• “No major surgery in 2017.” I kept this one only because of the word “major.” Any clandestine rummaging around in myself with an X-ACTO knife didn’t count, even if it didn’t work.

• “Show my wife that I love her.” This one was harder than I thought it would be. Not because I’m ambivalent about her, but rather because I’m easily distracted. I can go at least two days without telling her.

Hang on. I’ll be right back.

OK, I just asked her how I did with that last one? She said, “You did great. I know you love me. I just wish you’d get rid of that pile of bowling balls in the backyard like you promised.”

Hmm, I must have forgotten to write down that sixth pledge.

It’s not too late to try to get your 2017 resolutions in under the wire. It’s also not to early to start thinking about plans for 2018. Surely there are things you want to accomplish during that time.

Make sure you write them down in your daily journal.

Don’t keep a journal? Maybe make that resolution No. 1.

Then you’ll have 365 days, 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes to reach those goals.