I had heard before that it is not a good idea to shop for groceries while hungry. It often motivates otherwise decent human beings into making unwise purchases.

Years ago, I was in Sam’s Club staring lustfully at a large tub of nacho cheese, the size of which was not unlike something one would use to store great amounts of rock salt for winter use. As I stared longingly at the great reservoir of cheese, I sensed a mutual understanding that we should be together.

I knew there would be doubters, people who’d say that it would never work. After all, we had just met, and my desires were completely selfish. I was blinded by lust, though, and decided to reveal the object of my affection to the world, starting with my wife.

“Look at this,” I implored, as I lifted up my heavy, new friend, ignoring an immediate sharp pain in my lower back. “We should get this.”

Her look made a statement I expected to hear. Her lips soon echoed the sentiment.

“You aren’t seriously thinking of getting that, are you?”

“Why not?” I asked. “If you consider the unit price, this purchase will greatly decrease our nacho cheese budget over the next few months.”

“We don’t have a nacho cheese budget, and there’s no way you’ll ever eat all of that.”

She might have been right, I thought, but only time would tell. As hard as I tried, I could not imagine a scenario in which I would not consume all of the cheese, if for no other reason than to simply win the argument.

I remembered that discussion at Sam’s Club about six months later when pushing aside an old box of pork fried rice to reveal my large purchase still sitting in the rear of the refrigerator. Opening its cover, I noticed a small impression in the cheese dug by a spoon on the night of the original purchase.

That was the only time I had eaten any of the cheese. It wasn’t very good.

I considered finding my wife, lugging the tub to her and explaining that she was right and that I was sorry for my indiscretion. After some silent reflection, though, I decided to take it immediately to the transfer station, knowing that any kitchen garbage bag would not be strong enough to carry its weight.

People generally expect to get wiser with age, so I assumed I had little to fear as I walked into the convenience store in Unity with my wife on a recent Friday morning. We had just dropped my children off at my mother’s home in Stockton Springs and sought to grab some breakfast before we headed to Montreal for a romantic getaway, inasmuch as something like that would be possible with a guy like me.

We were so hungry that I’m sure if we were watching a nature show we would be pulling for the predator and not the prey.

On our second sweep of the store, we walked by the ice cream freezer, both of us pointing to its contents and making unintelligible moans that we each understood as appreciations for the frosty treats. We agreed that the popular dessert food would taste great at that moment, but it was unfortunately too early in the day to eat such a thing.

Or was it?

The next minute was filled with great deliberation and self-destructive logic.

“Why couldn’t we have ice cream for breakfast?” I asked my wife, hoping she would not return the same look I received years earlier at Sam’s Club.

With a deliciously sinister grin she replied, “Well …”

My foot was in the door. I responded, “The kids aren’t here.”

“So we wouldn’t have to set a good example,” she responded, almost is if we had rehearsed the conversation. “And this is our vacation, so we can break the rules a little.”

I did not overrule her logic. I was liking the way this was going.

“And we would be getting our dairy,” she added.

Yes. Dairy is a very important part of a balanced diet. But what about the 1,200 calories in a pint of that frozen gold called Ben & Jerry’s ice cream?

Now, if we could find a justification for consuming roughly 65 percent of our total daily caloric intake in 30 minutes, I could open my wallet and we could head to Montreal.

I looked at my wife. It was her turn and much was at stake. I awaited her response with the anxious expectation of a batter facing a one-run deficit with two strikes and two outs in the bottom of the ninth.

My wife wound up. The pitch …

“And if you’re going to have a lot of calories, it should be in the morning, when you have more time to burn them off.”

And there’s a drive deep to center. It’s back! Way back! This ball is gone!

She chose Banana Split and I bought Strawberry Cheesecake. I will honestly tell you that neither of us suffered one spoonful of regret.

Age oftentimes brings wisdom, and experience facilitates inner strength. On this morning, however, extreme hunger delivered us a total of 2,500 calories of instant gratification and was one of the greatest experiences of our trip to Montreal.

Chris Quimby is a stand-up comedian and humor columnist who works as a computer technician at the BDN.