It seems pretty clear no single Meaning Of Life will ever suit everyone: even the most generic, positive, non-controversial statement will find violent disagreement from some and shrugs of inadequacy from others. To top it off, nothing suggests life has a bona fide, absolute, one-size-fits-all Meaning anyway.
To declare life Utterly Meaningless suggests giving up, just lying around indifferently, withering away in a philosophically demanded slow suicide. Every day, confronted with the choice between shrugging off this pointless mortal coil and actually engaging with existence, the lack of Universal Meaning doesn’t rule the decision: Subjective Purpose wins the day.
Thus: pulling back the duvet transforms into a daily triumph against nihilism and The Meaning of Life appears all but indistinguishable from a Reason To Get Out Of Bed.
Enjoyment of life, responsibilities, biological urges, the hated job that funds the deeper drives, loved ones, ambitions and the rest. Not incomprehensible cosmic machinations or poetic platitudes, but personal, everyday stuff: the Significance of the Mundane.