I live in a basement apartment. It has two bedrooms. It is fairly dark, even in the middle of the day (you know... being underground and all..) and there is absolutely no privacy. Really. The bathroom has a folding door that doesn't reach all the way to the ground.
Luckily for me, there is a huge backyard. Not only is there a huge backyard, but in this backyard, there is a plot of land - probably bigger than my bedroom - that I am allowed to use for whatever I see fit. I've decided to plant a garden. So I got out a shovel, dug in some sheep crap and planted seeds... and lo and behold I've got plants. Not just any plants, either - I've got *food* plants! I've never had a garden before, and never had much success with house plants, so this is pretty thrilling. I'm so ridiculously pleased with each little success. In my mind, I'm already making spaghetti sauce.
Most importantly though, I see each little sprout as a little sprig of sanity. It's quiet, other people think it's boring, and I get to be alone. It's practically heaven. Now all I need out there is a lawn chair and a bookshelf and I'm set.