It's Pesach - that time of year when we Jews remember our ancestors' exodus from Egypt by telling the story and eating foods symbolizing both the struggle and the celebration. And we do it for two consecutive nights. The same food. The same story. The same shpilkes when we realize we've been sitting for three hours.
It makes sense. We're Jews; we make suffering into a celebration. You ate too much last night? Fine, you'll eat too much tonight, too. And no kvetching, already.
If G-d had given us just one night of Passover, Dayeinu! (It would have been enough.)
P.S. Next year in Jerusalem.
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