I'm writing this in my office. I'm sat at my desk in my office writing this.
My office was originally supposed to serve as a spare room, too, but in fact the room is just too small to fit in a desk, bookshelves and a sofa-bed. Of course, I'm bitterly disappointed about that.
Our living room seems colossal. The kitchen occupies most of one wall, then we have our (enormous) sofa-bed and my armchair in the sector near the patio doors to the terrace. By the other window is our dresser and our (enormous) table and chairs. We considered getting rid of the table and finding a smaller one, but the table is so much part of our life that we don't want to. Not only that, we have lots of room now.
The building sites around us are interesting rather than annoying. We enjoy being on the fourth floor, being able to sleep with the window open, being up above the stuff happening below.
We also enjoy the sunrises over the river and seeing the wooded hills of the entre-deux-mers away beyond Floirac and Bègles.
In short, so far so good.