When I was very young, I remember how much my mother disliked Mondays. Whether by Presidential decree, habit or tradition, Monday was laundry day in Spokane. If you doubted that, all you had to do was take a walk around our north side neighborhood and count the overburdened clotheslines. Having graduated from a washboard just a few years after my birth, my mother possessed a wringer washer during most of my early years. I was going to say an "old" wringer washer, but I don't know if it was or not. Possibly, my mother owned the last of the dinosaurs; perhaps everyone had one then.