Until the mid-twentieth century, most American women had every right to sing “washday blues,” because one day each week – for most, the longest day – was committed to washing, hanging out, ironing and folding the family duds. The day started with a trip to the laundromat, since most homes at the time were lucky to have indoor plumbing, much less washing machine and certainly not dryers. I recall my mother telling my brother and me to bring books along while she “put out a washing” on an old wringer-type washer. Mostly, we were to stay out of the way, our mom ...