January 10th 1831
Sometime unknown for loss of watch

    The storm passed, and the you-know-what-thing is leaving me alone, and not disturbing the fabric of time unless needed by plot convenience. I have set aside use of my magic wormhole—leaving it only for emergency—and I'm now hiding out in the captain's storeroom. Whenever someone comes, I jump through the worm-hole, though only the "ever knowing non-existent one whom exists" knows that if the rope is removed, problems with this might occur.
    I can barely stand hearing the captain talk about the dog all the time, though the cat-whom-can't-be-killed-by-Mr. X keeps me company in the storeroom(s).