Leave after the last one

You already know the number. Two, or one plate, or twenty minutes. The trouble starts the second after, when nothing is wrong and nothing hurts and the room is warm and one more costs almost nothing.

The failure isn't at the number. It's sixty seconds past it, when you're still sitting there with the empty glass, the open bag, the finished episode and the next one loading. Staying put is the decision. You think you're resting. You're negotiating. Nobody talks themselves into more from across the room.

The moment you hit your number tonight, stand up and physically leave the spot where you're sitting.

Contentment is a learned skill, not a temperament. I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content (Philippians 4:11). Learned. Which means at some point he didn't have it, and practiced until he did. The practice is small and unheroic. You set a number, you hit it, you get up while the wanting is still in your mouth. Do that enough times and enough stops being a rule you resent and becomes a thing you can actually feel. God isn't asking you to stop enjoying the glass or the meal. He's offering you a life where you can walk away from it without mourning.