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December 23, 2001
The evening passes uneventfully. I watch TV, and discover that when you're being stalked by an interdimensional demon intent on gutting you like a salmon, reality television suddenly becomes a lot less riveting.

I go to bed near midnight. Argyle takes up his position on the dressing table and assumes a particularly feline look of serene watchfulness. I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep. However I seem to drift off very quickly. It must have something to do with spending most of the previous night awake, listening to my cat telling me about the nature of the universe.