Evening.
I went through the stats on my food diary since I started and then back calculated what I may have lost if it's accurate, I'm accurate, ceteris paribus, shares may go up and down, etc, etc. IF all went as recorded, I may have lost five pounds/2kg. But I won't know until the random happenstance that I get near a pair of scales comes around again.
However, I blew the calorie budget today. Mr D's tendency to be an utter knob when he's dreaming has been keeping me awake/waking me up for three nights, culminating in last night's push-poke-kick-leg draped over-snatch the quilt-shoutathon, where I finally decamped to the living room rug. And after an entire 2.27 hours' sleep, he came downstairs to shake me awake to tell me that he was going to get up for work in another hour. I ate everything I could - pastry, bread, everything - so that I'd gone over my TDEE by 12.30pm.
Tonight, I intended to go to bed really early so I could get some sleep. He followed me in there because he's 'tired, too'. And he fell asleep immediately, whilst I was too wired to do that.
I'm back downstairs whilst the REM-addled twit is making sounds like ARRRUUUOOOOOODDHHGHGNGNNNNGGGGGGIOQPORUIOQUHADKK.
I swear this is how old people end up sleeping in separate rooms. Or houses. At the moment, separate counties appeals.