I did my taxes yesterday and was elated to find out my refund would be more than my quick estimate of a few weeks ago.

Good for me. Screw everyone else.

As the sole breadwinner and consumer in my "family unit," I'm doing alright in these times of wan and woe.

A group of guys, homeless, occasionally huddle in an alcove next to the front apartment of my triplex. I'm in the middle one, so I'm buffered. I never call the cops on these guys. Or tell them to leave. I nod, they mumble "sir" and I get in my car and go to work. Sometime after I leave, they move on. But that little alcove is some kind of lee in the storm for them. That's as much as I've got. My sympathy is to do nothing.

After the election, I found relief. Mostly in that I didn't have to care anymore. Moveon.org keeps sending me emails (I registered with them for free stickers and pins.) about how it's more important now to support and send money and try to change the minds of people who will never change their minds. And I delete them as soon as they show up.

I'm giving the administration a wide berth. They've got months, if not a whole year, to do what they feel they should. That was my vote. Don't make me get up and do anything. I did all the heavy lifting I'm gonna do.

This is sad, I guess. I should be engaged. I should be trying. But all I feel like doing right now is surviving.

Sometimes I give my change to someone who asks. Most of the time I shake my head.

I spent almost two weeks giving shelter and drink to my almost homeless non-uncle. He's in L.A. now, and my relief at getting him to the airport was profound.

I'm not the only single late thirty something I know. There are a few of us out there, but I seem to be the only one who doesn't mind being alone. Maybe I lost that chunk of humanity a while back. I haven't seen it lying around anywhere, and my apartment's not that big.

It's not like I don't hang out with people. I see my younger brother and his family quite regularly. I go to work everyday and see everyone scrambling around trying to get their work and lives together. I have drinks with friends. I'm in a band, so the four of us try to hone those songs amongst jokes and drinks and electric instruments.

I've got no problem with people, per se. It's just I don't care.

Must be the dead of winter.

Except it's been so nice around here this winter, I keep thinking we're about to head into April. But we're not. A storm will hit us soon, and I'll remember what winter is like. I'll pile blankets on the bed and hole up at night. Warm up the car in the morning and scrape the frost off the windows.

Since I turned 25, I've felt like I hit middle age. And now, just turning 37, no one seems to agree with me. When can I start walking downhill? Y'know, make it a little easier. Like I'm at least getting close, in a continental divide sense, to the end.

I spent yesterday, after all the real work was done (shopping, cleaning), dancing around my living room to various musical acts. Some wine. Some incense, a few candles and mood lighting. Total bliss.

Everyone else, evidently, was concerned that Michael Phelps took a couple hits off a bong A FEW MONTHS AGO. Or that Christian Bale had a temper tantrum LAST JULY.

RIGHT NOW. Is anything happening right now?

And why do you care? Don't you have enough to worry about?

Matt Worley feels like hiding in his cave on occasion.