The dot points I didn't get to yesterday!

Oh, there are so many dot points inside of me

• Vinnie did this scratch to me, trying to jump on my bed at sunrise. He can't jump that well. I'm not a wonderful jumper myself but at least I am aware of this and I don't try to jump on beds that are too high for me. Last time he did this he scratched me on the face so I suppose this isn't too bad considering.
• Every now and then something happens at work that just fills me with despair at how much of an impossible task it is that I've set myself. Yesterday it was a phonecall from a history teacher at an inner city high school. If you can think of a high school that Helen Garner got sacked from then you might be able to guess which one it was. The teacher asked about booking an education program on the second world war for her students. We had a long conversation about what she wanted, and towards the end of this she asked diffidently if I could ensure that whoever facilitated the program would acknowledge that the Allies, as she put it, weren't always the goodies, and sometimes they did bad things during the war. What, bad things like killing people? I've made a note in my diary to try to hang around when this group come in and to listen to what the teachers and students say to each other. I honestly can't grasp what the assumptions were which prompted that request.
•  On the other arm I have this stupid injury which you can hardly see in the picture, it's a long scratch / scrape / bruise running from just below the watchband down to my elbow. I acquired this one on Swanston St on Friday afternoon: I was stopped at a pedestrian crossing, for the obvious reason, and a man riding behind me thought this would be a good time to overtake me so he sped up, then he had to slam on his brakes at the pedestrian crossing (for the obvious reason.) The scrape is from his handlebars