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Wow. I just got a call from one of the places I applied at, inviting me in for an interview on Friday. It wasn't my number one choice, but the pay's okay and will keep me fed and sheltered.

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Today I had lunch with my Uncle Sam. I didn't know him very well - I suspect my parents kept him from me while I was a child, along with many of my mother's other 'disreputable' relatives.
Uncle Sam seemed pretty normal to me, though. He works as an editor for a local magazine. The oddest thing about him that I could notice was the slight fascination with the occult that seems so common around here.
He was quite helpful, though. When he learned where I was staying, he offered to help me find a new place to live as quickly as possible.

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In my quest to become a Productive Member of Society (and to avoid starving on the street) I spent most of the morning preparing and sending out resumes to the various businesses in the area.

Some of the job requirements seem quite strange. I can understand why the university librarian might need to know how to read Latin, but why does the job also require proficiency with semi-automatic weapons?

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Ugh. Unpacking as little as possible is much easier if you actually know where things are packed. Where the hell did I put that book on resume writing?

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Really weird dreams last night. There were bridges and this weird black guy... Can't remember too many details about it now.

Talked to some of the other people staying here earlier this morning. It seems the place I'm staying at has quite a history. Most of it was rebuilt after it was destroyed in a storm 60 or 70 years ago. It spent a brief amount of time as a bed and breakfast place, but dropped the breakfast because of a rat problem.

I'll be doing a bit of unpacking today, but I think I'll want to keep as many things packed as possible. Once I find a job I hope to move into a slightly nicer place and I'd rather avoid packing all my things again.

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I'm tired, the place is a mess and I don't have a job, but I'm in Arkham. Going to bed now, but compared to life in my old apartment, what's the worst that could happen?

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One day left. It seems my radiator's demise was a portent of things to come - a pipe in the wall in somebody else's apartment exploded, causing considerable property damage. It seems this was the last straw for most of the people here. There's a crowd of irate tenants in the courtyard right now and none of them seem too happy. It seems that the landlord skipped town last night. Perhaps it's just as well - I think I saw a few torches and pitchforks in that crowd.

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The repair man came and went. The radiator is beyond repair - no surprise there - but he did manage to patch up the wall a bit and suggested getting a space heater for my room to dry everything out.

Two more days.

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A repair man is coming in today to have a look at the now thoroughly deceased radiator. I'm also trying to dry my mattress as best I can. Arkham is looking better every day.