I am DESPERATELY in need of a chaise longue. Reading Proust (have the day off today), in funny brain foggy state, drinking lapsang souchong... come on, the thing that can make this perfect is a chaise longue. And someone to reassure me that Marcel is only upper middle class, and I should feel less excluded by this book because I'm not French.

Also a recipe for keeping one in touch with sanity: repeat quietly to yourself "I am not Blanche Glover and it is extremely unlikely I shall become her". I am at the point of wanting to stick this on post its around my room for use in times of panic.