Through the Wringer

Sometimes in my life I wax nostalgic for simpler things and times. They can even be times and events with which I have had first-hand experience. I think about the wringer machines that way. I remember seeing them at a local car wash. The machine seemed to run for 5 or 10 minutes and then some guy would take a break and run the wash rags through the wringer and hang them up.
Then once, ages ago, I remember spending a long weekend in Vermont at a friend's home and I saw that he had a machine. I asked him if I could use it and he seemed puzzled why anyone would want to do laundry on a weekend when laundry day is Monday. So, he explained to me how it worked and what was needed. The same wash water is used for the entire laundry (no matter how many loads you use). Water had to be manually drawn for this (he had a water pump in his kitchen (he was upscale because he didn't have to go outside to fetch water). I never got the feeling as if the clothes were ever fully rid of the soap from them. Even if they went through rinse water... the rinse water would be recycled as well. Fortunately, his machine was electric.
it required more work and attention that I probably would have wanted to spend and there was a specific order with which everything needed to be done. He was also fussy about how the clothes were to go out for hanging (they needed to be hung upside down and two items that were next to each other needed to share a clothes pin.
It seemed energy efficient but required a lot more work than I was interested in expending. I prefer my city life and do well with the American spin machine. Still, I do think about those machines from time to time and wonder just how different a shirt would feel if it went through the wringer.
<SHRUG> ... It's about as contemplative as thinking about using a manual typewriter every day!