SOMETIMES I GO TO THE MARKET WITH MY WIFE, sometimes I don't. There is good reason not to, as I am akin to a child in a candy store as I wander the aisles, spotting this goody and that goody, none of which I need, but all of which I have a hard time resisting. One tries to be strong, you know, but then, there are those attractive cheese Danish, or the malted milk balls in the milk carton, or the inevitable bag of chips. Oh hell, if the flesh is weak, the taste buds are downright cowardly. I can resist anything but temptation, but there's always a struggle. I have my strong days; I have my vulnerable days. The problem with the strong days is the aftermath of that fortitude, as I'm leaving the store, getting into my car, and driving home. “There is not any memory with less satisfaction,” wrote James Branch Cabell, “than the memory of some temptation we resisted.” Yes, there's that. Then there's the drool stains on my shirt.
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