Please don't hate me, Bank Of America!

I'll be frank. I'm in debt right now. 

I guess I'm not in debt in the technical sense; I don't owe money to an institution.
I owe money to myself.

See, I have this thing called a savings account. I've come to the conclusion that I take out more than I put in. I'm patiently waiting for the moment when Bank Of America will get fed up with my inability to save any kind of money, and finally change my savings account to a second checking account.

You see, I have a decent amount of money in my savings account. Well, had. After spending on Ultra, season passes for Santa's (that I have yet to use, and are nonrefundable) and an insane number of cheap economical for the monetarily-challenged  Christmas gifts from Walmart, my savings account is looking like the budget of a 3 year old. Funny things, those savings accounts.

But on a brighter note, I will be cooking with my boyfriend soon. :) But I won't be saving the Fire Dept.'s number on speed dial just yet.

It seems our first home-cooked (by us) meal will consist of chicken, pasta and sauce. And we're planning on combing those three ingredients into something orgasmic and delicious. Or orgasmicly delicious. Something like that.

It all started at Winn-Dixie. We stocked up on Chef Boyardee, instant noodles and canned soup, because we knew that the severity of our debt would keep us below the poverty line for about 3 weeks. And then, we passed the pasta and sauce. 

I said, "What if we made pasta?"

He looked at me with a face that said, THAT'S BRILLIANT. 

And off we went through the aisles of Winn-Dixie, thinking of dishes and dishes to cook in my mom's kitchen all the while feeling like a couple adjusting to the married life.

Meanwhile, it's freezing in my room. We Miami-ans get one little drop into the 60's, and we pull out our coats and scarves like it's no one's business.

Well, time for work!