Hanging out at the Webster

I spent some quiet time at home today, reading, accidentally writing the introduction of my next conference paper, catching up on some paperwork. Then, after the sunday night food delivery ("dinner" at the Webster is served between 12 and 2pm on Sundays), I decided to get myself out of my room and go to the library hang out with a book and mr Webster's portrait. The library is almost perfect: a clock that chimes every 15 minutes in a very dignified manner, comfortable chairs, sofas and decent desks (on which you are bound to write in a way that Emily Post would approve), a fireplace that is sadly condemned, and books, most of them left behind by past guests.
But the library has two major flaws: since the door cannot be closed (it is firmly believed at the Webster that closed doors can lead to unseemly behaviors: sex, alcohol and fun)), you are forced to endure the guard's music, tonight some boom-boom mixed with Indian music, and the voices of some people, such as the "lovely" guard, Rose, and other loud people.
2, and that is the bigger flaw: what is the point of having a nice comfy chair, a foot rest and a book, if you don't have a cat on your lap?