When I think about saving money, I remember about my mom and her sister when they were kids.

Every day, their mother gave them a nickel to pay for the bus ride home from school. My mom always saved hers, but her sister inevitably lost the coin or spent it on candy, soda or something else frivolous but nonetheless tantalizing.

Unfortunately, when it comes to money, I inherited the wrong set of genes.

I don't have extravagantly expensive tastes, per se. I'm happy with my Honda Civic. I don't like fancy purses. A diamond wedding ring isn't up there on my wish list.

I do like CDs. And clothes. And other stuff that adds up before you know it.

Financial management is one of the most unromantic parts of the single life. If we are lucky, we held down a job or a few jobs during the course of our 20s and managed to save up some funds to support ourselves.

I did OK with what I earned. I had a healthy savings account for quite awhile and only once overdrew on my checking account (or was it twice?).

Then I bought a car, and the down payment meant a substantial blow to my savings.

 Then I moved and had to put down first and last months' rent plus a deposit EQUAL to a month's rent.

And then there was the biggest nuclear event of them all: I quit my job. As in, no more regular paychecks. As in, no more paychecks at all, unless I keep up this freelance thing.

You might ask, why do such a thing, you crazy little girl? Well, I quit my job to go back to school, find emotional clarity and shake things up (more on that in a future column, I promise).

While graduate schools might occasionally pay for your tuition, they typically do not pay for your rent, your utility bill or your debilitating music addiction.

Nor do I have investments to supplement my savings because things like stocks and bonds scare me. (I am seldom the banker when I play Monopoly.)

Now that I have thrown away all of my financial security, will I end up destitute, on the street, begging not for money but free tickets to concerts?

I tell myself everything will work out in the end. I'm looking for part-time work.

And c'mon, I'm a writer. I never expected to make a lot of money. And if I marry a creative type like myself, who's to say he'll be any better off than I?

When I think about what's made me happiest in life, the memories have nothing to do with money but with people: walking in a park, laughing with someone.

Yes, I want to be able to eat. But whatever's inside a piggy bank alone can't solve your problems. That's up to you and your ingenuity. And that's priceless.