There’s a particular scene in an early episode of the Simpsons that I found especially relatable, as a ten-year-old whose main interest was candy. Bart and Lisa wake up the morning after Halloween, so miserable from eating sweets that they can’t even look at their candy pile. When Marge suggests giving the rest of it to needy children, they protest, flop onto the candy pile to protect it, and begin miserably eating more.

I had noticed by then that the deliciousness of candy was highly variable. The first Twizzler or mouthful of Nerds tasted the best. The delight fell off steadily after that, although I would almost always finish whatever I’d bought with my allowance.

At that age, my candy consumption was usually only limited by my budget. However, I knew from Halloween’s annual windfalls that you could eat enough candy to reach a state where the magic is basically gone, and all that remains is a harsh sugariness. It’s clear the party’s over, yet some part of you still wants to continue gobbling toffees and Tootsie Rolls.

This is because, even though pleasure is basically gone by then, eating another candy still gives a faint hint of the initial deliciousness. It’s like you’ve already squeezed all the juice out of an orange or a lemon, but you can always give the empty rind another hard squeeze, and wring out one more drop.