You would think that for as long as time has been around, a pretty solid consensus would have developed as to how it should be divided.

But as the clock ticks over to 12:00 a.m. on Jan. 1, 2020, and most Americans (64% according to one recent poll) prepare to welcome a new decade, another nearly 17% say all that celebrating is happening a year too early.

And much like the starkly entrenched partisan debates that dominate our current political landscape, neither “Team 0” or “Team 1” sees any validity in the opposing arguments.

When viewed from the perspective of the 10-year divisions that have defi ned cultural trends in modern times, Team 0 argues that 2020 is clearly the fi rst year of a new decade.

After all, no one says that young adults begin the decade of life known as their 20s at age 21.

And, looking back at past decades with personal or cultural significance, the years included in those retrospectives generally are the years sharing the same number as the third digit (for instance, 1960-69 are the 60s, 1980-89 are the 80s.)

Including 1970 in the decade popularly known as the ’60s or 1990 in the ’80s not only feels wrong, it is wrong, according to Team 0.

Like most of his fellow Team 0 members, my husband saw this view as unassailable and was actually confused by my “It’s debatable” headline on Sunday’s Page 1 story about New Year’s Eve.

But all the right-brained mathematicians and other number nerds in Team 1 just as fiercely argue the correctness of their position.

If we start measuring time in Year 1, then the last year of the decade would be Year 10, not Year 9. (Gary counted on his fingers twice before he conceded the possible truth of that argument.)

The Gregorian calendar, commonly accepted throughout most of the world, measures time in this way, marking the first year of the Anno Domini era as 1 AD, not 0 AD.

Even the venerable and time-tested Farmer’s Almanac agrees on its website “that decades begin with the year ending in the numeral 1 and finish with a 0.”

I’m probably among the 19% of Americans who are not members of either team.

I clearly see the mathematical logic of the Year 1-10 argument of Team 1, but I also see the artistic symmetry of grouping decades together based on that matching third digit.

Actually, because the division of time into periods of years is a totally human construct, exactly which year marks the start of a new decade matters not.

And speaking of “not,” we can’t even agree how to refer to the fi rst two decades of this century.

Do we call the fi rst 10 years the “2000s” (a little boring), the “aughts” as some Americans do, or the “naughts” or even “naughties,” both terms used in England?

And is the decade we left at midnight, Jan. 1 (or will leave a year later, if you’re a Team 1 guy) the “10s,” “teens” or “2010s”?

Thankfully, no matter how entrenched your position, this is one friendly debate that can safely be waged at your New Year’s Eve party without risk of disastrous consequences.

Whether you reach an agreement or not, time will still march on.