Apostrophe and Comma

I looked out yesterday morning and saw these rose-ringed parakeets on our bird feeder. I was surprised they were so brave, as Mr. Russia was up on the terrace banging around again. They must have been hungry.

They reminded me of two parentheses -- or of that line in Sandra Cisneros's book "The House on Mango Street," about the man whose little dogs were always jumping in mid-air, looking like an apostrophe and a comma.

Or maybe a pair of synchronized divers?

Yesterday was dreary, food-wise: An egg and a white roll in the morning, some cheese toast for lunch, and then nothing else. Plus the whole cleansing thing in the evening. This morning I can't have coffee (the worst bit of all this so far) and shortly I'll be off to the hospital to receive the sacrament of the capsule. Why do I believe it will be glowing when they hand it to me, the light shining upward into all our faces, as angels sing?

At lunchtime I'm supposed to be able to eat a light meal, and by dinner I'll be back to my normal dietary habits. And none too soon.

(Trigger alert: Stop reading now if you are an arachnophobe!)

When I got up this morning, I went to open the back door to let Olga out. Then I went to get my glasses, which were on my bedside table, so I could blog. And I saw this:

I had pretty much the same expression as that owl.

Where that gigantic thing came from and what it's doing on my bedside lamp I'll never know. I imagine I disturbed it with all my cleaning on Saturday. I just left it alone. Maybe it will go back where it came from. The question is, will I ever be able to sleep soundly in my bed again?