I'm hoping someone has some words of wisdom, or at least cheer. I've been very depressed lately about my husband. He is a very tough to deal with perfectionist. I'm very type B, he's very type A. He never hits the snooze button, has an amazing work ethic, etc. If you did ten things wrong, he wouldn't miss the chance to criticize or complain about a single one, and would probably throw in an eleventh criticism just for good measure. You could do ten things well, and he wouldn't say a word about any of them. I made invites today for a party we had talked about having. We just moved into a new neighborhood, and have some really great neighbors, and lots of kids for our kids to play with, etc. I was really looking forward to having music and a house full of people, because being around friends makes me happy, and even moreso lately because being around him just makes me anxious and sad. He nixed the idea of inviting any neighbors to this party because the house isn't good enough. Since moving in two months ago, we have gorgeous red oak floors throughout, new ss appliances, new granite counters, the whole place has been painted in great colors, new home theater, we've decorated for Christmas and so on. He said he wanted to "have some area rugs first, and the bookshelves don't look right" where they're currently set up, so no neighbors could come. The kids were disappointed, and when he said it I just literally felt my heart sink and had to walk away to cry. We argue about housework. He'd like to walk into Martha Stewart central everyday. I'm not a slob, the dishes aren't always put away, and with 3 kids there's always laundry hanging around, but I also don't put a house that looks like a showpiece at all times on the top of my priority list. In the past, when I've knocked myself out to clean, he hasn't said a word. I think that makes me avoid doing things even more, because it seems like there's no point. When he's stressed, he cleans more, works harder, looks for things to fix, when I'm stressed I tend to shut down. He thinks he's not doing anything wrong because his form of escaping is at least productive, but to me, it's still an escape, so just as unhealthy. When he said no to the party, I felt like my heart broke. I think because I looked at that day as my last chance to have fun and be happy before CHristmas. Any advice?