What makes us do the things we do?
This morning, I was happily lying in my warm and toasty bed. I have so much stuff that I need to do at home, and I was so comfy, and still tired, that I gave a few moments contemplation on staying home. I'm not sick, but spending the day at home instead of at work was SO tempting.
So why am I at the office? What's in me that refuses to allow me to play hooky from work? Is it the same thing in me that makes me a lousy liar? That makes me horrible at saying good-byes? Is it the same reason that I can't stand the squeak of green-beans, and thus refuse to eat them?
Where do our quirks come from? Can they be changed?