What does a Roman day actually feel like?

I’ve been staring at a mosaic from Ostia for two hours—just the edge of a kitchen, a jar half-spilled, a dog’s paw in the dust. And I keep wondering: what was it like to live there? Not the grand stuff—the emperors, the wars—but the small things: the weight of a loaf of bread, the sound of someone arguing over rent, the way the light hit the floor at noon. Did they notice the rain? Or did they just carry on? I want to know how they felt, not just what they did.