Excerpt from the Diary of Dame Van Winkle

When I married Rip Van Winkle twenty years ago, I could not conceive of the hardships he would bring me in life. As a young woman, I saw in him what everyone else saw: charm. Oh was he charming! During our courtship, it was not at all unusual for him to pop up in the middle of a day with a bouquet of fresh flowers, all tied up and ready to be received by my loving hand. In those days, seeing as how I hadn't yet experienced the burdens of child rearing and housekeeping, I saw his charming, free spirit as an asset rather than a fault. It wasn't until after the marriage, I came to the realization that my marriage to this man had been a huge mistake.
Day after day for the last twenty years, I've toiled and labored to keep this house in order, and what does he do? He flits around town like an irresponsible adolescent. Everyday I hear about how giving and kind he is, how he would give the shirt off his back for a neighbor in need, how the children love him and the housewives wish they could have him. Yet what does he contribute here at home? Nothing, absolutely nothing! While he is out helping the good citizens of our village and dancing and singing with the children of the world, he leaves his own wife and children at home to suffer in poverty. For all the free work he gives for everyone else, he wouldn't dare consider the possibility of being a real man and going out and getting a real job. Heaven forbid he should actually do something he finds unpleasant!
I know the other housewives hate me for my feelings toward Rip, always blaming me for any tiff he and I have. Indeed, I may be loud and seemingly overbearing, but what would one expect? If the tables were turned and any one of the other ladies of the town were to switch husbands and suddenly find themselves married to Rip, they too would grow bitter and mean with the everyday struggle of his unabashed laziness. How would they feel if all their husbands did day in and day out was fish and hunt, drink and party and consistently act out the epitome of irresponsibility? I have no doubts that if this were the case, they would most definitely view my actions in a totally different way.
Alas, as it is, the good people of the community continue to worship my husband's feet; the men love him, the women adore him, the children idolize him, and even the town dogs seem to admire him! What is a woman to do when her husband is the scourge of her life, but the light of her community? It looks as though I shall have to go on in this miserable, despairing, irate life, wishing and hoping that maybe someday he will grow weary of my scathing words and begin to simply appease me with a steady job. Perhaps then, my children and I will be provided for, and never have to live in poverty again. Until then, life goes on.

Dame Van Winkle