One of my favorite things I've discovered in the last couple years is how quiet my life can be. A lot of the time, I'm a hyper, outgoing (also hyper-outgoing) person. And I'll obsessively listen to music when I'm in the mood. But I love huge chunks of near silence. The kind where I can hear the birds in the morning and kids hollering after school.
The best time for this is in the morning. Then the dogs are too sleepy and are focussed on figuring out whether breakfast is soon enough that they should get out of bed. If it's nice out, I like to throw them both into the yard, where they sun themselves on the deck, stiffly pretending the other one doesn't exist. (This is as much of a truce as they seem to have agreed upon.)
My little sunroom is at its best then. Warm even in winter with the direct heat of the sun, with a view of my tiny untended oasis of a yard. Even my anxiety is at its calmest. The day is bright with possible forks in the road and (if I'm doing it right) the coffee is just starting to hit my bloodstream and my synapses are just starting to stretch and connect.
Somehow, in the first bright light of the day, even the untended corners of my life seem less fraught with failure.