My bed. I can't get over the fact that night after night, I get to crawl under the covers and snuggle up in the sheets, lost in blankety bliss. My roommates think I'm crazy, ("You guys, we get to go to BED now!!!") but climbing in bed never ceases to delight me.
The stair well. We music majors spend hours practicing, usually in the practice rooms on the second floor of the Harris Fine Arts Building. It's a level below the ground. No windows. (As an aside - if I ever become overwhelmingly rich, I'm going to build a practice-room structure with lots of windows for aspiring music students at BYU.) Anyway, the lack of windows is ameliorated by my new favorite practice spot: the stairwell. It's a level below even the practice rooms. Concrete, high ceilings, and endlessly flattering acoustics. Everything sounds good down there.
The backyard passage. See, my brothers live on the street parallel to mine. Walk out my back door, through thirty feet of unkempt wilderness, and I arrive at the back door of two of my top five favorite people ever. But don't let me get going on them, it'll take at least a separate post. Probably two.