My husband rolled out of bed at 05:15 Brazil time, 30 minutes after the street-mutt in our kitchen began whining, and his usual path to the banheiro (loo) appeared arched and a touch wobbley. Think 'slowww, slowww, qwik, qwik.'
He calls today and says his equilibrium is all askew.
He hit the hay tonight at 20:45, too wiped to even romp with me and the eager pup. I'm worried he's picked up dengue or some other dreadful tropical malady. Someone please tell me it's just gippy tummy from an over-ripe linguiça in the icebox.
Aye!
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