I don't know what made me do it

I'm in Ellen's bad books this evening.

I don't know what made me do it, but I urinated on the carpet. Now all she can do is scowl at me and ask me why I did it. She's barely said anything else to me all evening.

Then, for a moment she'll forget and say hello . . . and then she remembers again and the shadow comes back over her face.

I really don't know what made me do it. I wonder if she'll ever speak to me again? Will she ever forgive me?

. . . Nope. She still hasn't forgiven me.