Socks Box torture

We used to have a box, now it's a tub. For some reason it's in my office at the moment.

My husband has been giving vacation clues each day. It's driving my Obsessive Compulsive Disordered son BONKERS.

He sits there, like this, in the sock tub saying things like, "Those clues stink. WE're NEVER going to find out where we're going. Dad shouldn't make the clues so hard. I can't guess where we're going. Nobody is ever going to tell us. I don't like this. We will never know the place. I can't figure it out. Why can't you tell me where we are going? etc. etc. etc.

for HOURS.

And I sit here and type (right now I have 7 IM messages open, am doing email, and blogging)....