The last vestige of civilization

The kitchen has been packed up, the stove and the dishwasher have been donated to Soul's Harbor, a charitable organization in Dallas (which is good because the dishwasher broke about 2 months ago, however, it makes a dandy drying rack)  and I am washing what will be my last load in the kitchen sink, before I move myself to the utility sink in the laundry.  Yes, I am lucky, I don't have to wash pots and pans in my bathtub. 

So I said to Paul, "we are not washing any more dishes, silverware or glasses since we are switching to paper and plastic for the duration, right?"   Paul looks at me and says, "I am not drinking my Jack Daniels out of a plastic cup."   Now my husband drinks Jack Daniels Black on the rocks, sometimes while eating a grapefruit. He has special heavy glasses that he drinks it out of.  The glasses in question:

 

There were four, but two broke long before we started this project.    I just didn't want you to think that I broke two of them so I would only have to wash two. 

Now my first inclination (the pissy part of me that comes out sometimes when my meds aren't working) was to say "not on your life buddy."  But since Paul does most of the heavy lifting on these projects, I kept my mouth shut, put them on the window sill with the bourbon and will wash them gladly (or at least to keep the peace).

Next stop, Construction Central.