While being really indecisive Saturday about a major-appliance purchase at a big-name store, it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought about Brett Favre in a very long time.

Not only had I neglected to send a card after he became a grandfather, he had lost his priority seating in the part of my brain that filters the important work stuff.

Apparently, Favre had slid all the way back between Justine Henin’s elbow injury and Juan Montoya’s sway bar.

Since I was out of town and had issued a self-imposed news blackout for 12 hours, I wasn’t even aware that Favre was back working out with the high school kids.

To get caught up, I learned that Oak Grove High School in Hattiesburg, Miss., has a highly regarded drama department. That seemed about right.

Nor did I know that Jason Campbell was in on Favre’s sessions. These are NFL quarterbacks stretching out without the personal-trainer prices. You would think they’re helping the school by at least donating to a raffle or something. As first prize, for example, Campbell could give away a pair of Oakland Raiders tickets. Second prize, of course, would be four Raiders tickets.

Anyway, this out-of-mind Favre state of being has been one of the healthiest mental developments since the invention of the TV mute button.

Sure, our man Brett still issues the occasional communique through his local newspaper.

The good thing now is that nobody treats them like puffs of smoke from the Vatican.

News crews don’t flock to his gate as if Lady Gaga were about to sing at a Tiger-Elin hearing.

Long ago, we learned to interpret Favre’s words. When he says, “I just don’t know,” that means he knows. When he says, “I don’t want to stir the pot,” that means he is ready to take 200-horsepower outboard motor to it.

The great thing is none of it passes for news anymore. The turbulent summer of 2008 seems so long ago that events from 1908 appear fresher.

The latter year was when Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were supposedly gunned down. You can catch their act pretty much any night of the week on some cable channel.

But if Minnesota Vikings coach Brad Childress were about to set sail down the Mississippi to chauffeur Favre back to Winter Park in that inflatable Vikings boat they run players through for pregame introductions, I’m guessing the Twin Cities stations wouldn’t roll a satellite truck.

OK, so maybe they would, but you get the point.

What a beautiful thing it is not to have your pre-training-camp quietude disturbed by the unnecessary vacillations of a Vikings quarterback who is going to continue to be the Vikings quarterback just as sure as Minnesotans will put loons in elected office.

And when he shows up at some point after the Vikings break camp, I want Favre to have another 33-touchdown/seven-interception season.

I want him to be able to call it his best season like he did in 2009, even if he did win a Super Bowl 14 years earlier. I want him to stay healthy and productive at age 40 for a 20th season because all of that will likely mean one thing:

The Packers and the Vikings will be taking it all the way to the end in the NFC North, this time without the Favre sideshow.

That angle hopefully exhausted, the attention will be where it belongs for however long the division rivals play in 2010.

And then I won’t think about Favre until presented with another Whirlpool-Kenmore call.