It’s important to find the bright side of life.

It’s important to find something that will make you stop and say “Well, it could be worse,” even though “Well, it could be worse,” is a pretty stupid thing to say because we already know it can always be worse.

On the other side of life, saying, “It couldn’t get any better than this,” is not a dumb thing to say because most of the time it really can’t get any better.

Sometimes life is as good as it can get.

Actually, now that I’ve put this on paper (or on computer, if you will) I’m not so sure about my earlier “bright side” statement. That’s right. I started to write a column going one way and quickly talked myself into changing directions.

Sort of answers the question, “Mike, do you ever think about your columns before you start typing?” doesn’t it?

So, the thing I’m going to talk about is not so much a bright side of life as it is a “not quite so dark but really only sort of bright side of life”.

I may have made this up but the original title of Eric Idle’s classic, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” was “Always Look on the Not Quite so Dark but Really Only Sort of Bright Side of Life.”

But you might want to check with Eric about that. Or, better yet, buy his book “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”

I did. It’s great.

For the record, Eric did not ask me to plug his book. I don’t even know Eric. But a few of years ago my wife and our now 22-year-old daughter Emma spent about a week in England so we’re practically family.

Eric and I, I mean. My wife, Emma and I were already family.

Now, where was I?

Oh right, that sort of bright side thing.

I’m talking about finding the sort of bright side of not really being able to leave our house without risking my life.

As a non-people person I’ve mentioned before the sort of bright side, for me, of not leaving our house, is not having to deal with people.

If I were a people person I would probably hate staying home. But I’m not. So I don’t.

But recently I discovered another sort of bright side about not leaving our house.

Laundry.

Or the relative lack thereof.

Even before the pandemic, as someone who works from home, I probably had less laundry to worry about than-let’s say-my wife who doesn’t work from home.

But now, since I hardly leave the house, the amount of laundry I have to worry about has decreased by-to use a complicated mathematical term-a whole bunch.

My typical quarantine attire generally consists of a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Last week my wife and I attended a brief, small, socially distanced, outdoor gathering that required me to wear long pants, an actual shirt with a collar, shoes and socks.

It was the first time I had worn socks in three months.

I almost forgot where I kept them.

My socks, I mean.

I have a lot of T-shirts. I don’t know how or why I have so many T-shirts I just know I do.

I think most guys have no idea how or why they have as many T-shirts as they do.

Because I have so many T-shirts, I can go weeks without having to do laundry. My wife is like that too but in her case it’s not so much T-shirts she has a lot of, but clothes in general.

My wife could go months without doing laundry and still not have to worry about having something to wear.

I’m not saying my wife does go months without doing laundry. I’m just saying she could.

As I sit here typing this, I’m wearing a pair of brown shorts and a green Heineken T-shirt. I think Emma got the T-shirt for me, last year, when she was in Amsterdam.

Tomorrow, I will probably wear the same shorts again and just change T-shirts. Thereby keeping my laundry responsibilities to a minimum.

So, what have we learned here?

Well, I guess, we’ve learned it doesn’t take much to make me happy.

Just give me a sort of bright side of life and, now that I think about it, a cold Heineken.

Cue the whistling.