There was a time many years ago, during my high school years, I worked as a farm hand. The work was hard, work that would be impossible for me today. Sated was not in my vocabulary. I worked at it. Farmer’s wives would put out a spread and I’d devour everything in sight. That was then.
Yesterday, we enjoyed Thanksgiving with 13 others. Did in a wood shop, the only convenient place that would accommodate so many of us.
Everything was delicious, beyond delicious. But the condition of sated occurred eons earlier than it would have during the years mentioned above. One plateful, no pie, no cake, no ice cream. Hence, no heartburn.