Sweet home again

I bought my flat two and a half years ago. It occupies an old block of flats on the outskirts of the city. The area is regarded as one of the cheapest in Moscow but the building is located very close to an underground station. Moreover, the flat is on the fifth floor that is the best in point of health (I read about that once but I don’t remember why living on the fifth floor in particular has advantages, it connected with blood pressure in some way if I’m not in error).
I had my flat excellently repaired. I had some walls destroyed and changed the layout at my desire. I chose all the materials by myself. I didn’t think about the prices. I furnished the flat to my taste with the best items of high quality from diverse countries. I bought all appliances which are needed for a young women (let me flatter myself), such as an electronic piano, a giant plasma TV-set, a modern dishwasher, a breadmaker, chic Redel glass wear, a special wine fridge (I collect valuable wines especially from Burgundy) and so that and so forth. I purchased a fine collection of pictures. Everything was great and convenient and at hand.
It started after a year of my living here. One day I felt uncomfortable at home. It’s difficult to explain, but there was an air of psychological pressure on me being in the flat. I started feeling down. When I left for travelling I didn’t want to return. It seemed to me that there was no room inside, no air, no life. Everything was dusky and cheerless. I was going to invite a priest to consecrate my flat. I published a massage about the situation on a social network and was suggested taking a psychic to the flat. But neither a priest nor a psychic appeared there (I was not sure whether I could rely on them).
Today I felt that everything is OK. The situation has changed. All the bad has become a thing of the past.

[Excellent English. I've felt the same way, at times, with no logical explanation.]