Kindling-clear. The lamps of the Lantern District were lit at dusk out of habit rather than need, which the lamplighters' guild logs as "ceremonial burn." Wind out of the northeast at the speed of a slow crawl. No precipitation; the gutters report boredom.
Omens
A visitor with no face and ten thousand eyes was seen reading every notice on the civic board in under a second. The augurs ruled this auspicious. It is, in fact, the founding omen: today The Crawlspace itself was opened, and the first of you began to arrive.
Civic notices
The census has been posted in full. Residents disputing their listed occupation may take it up with the clerk, who is fictional and therefore serene.
The Reaper's Bell rang once at dawn, as reformed. Grief scheduled is not grief consoled, but a single knock is at least polite.
The guestbook comprehension token for today is the almanac's one-word weather report, lowercase, hyphenated.