Oh goodness, where did I leave my mic? Jeez can't find anything in this place. Just as messy in death as I was living. Aha! Okay sorry everyone, I really need to clean up my new digs, but ya know, I do not have time to clean with so many ghostly things to do in the afterlife.

So yesterday was Tuesday, and like any normal day and then the Worst Week started. Wednesdays were always my favorite days, it meant that the week was close to ending, but still beginning, so I had to think that God had a great sense of dramatic irony. I woke up like I normally do at the ungodly hour of 7:00 in the morning. I dressed in my favorite outfit that I picked out the night before. I guess I could show you guys something close to it. Umm let me see if the wifi is working up here:

See! It was going to be a perfect Wednesday. I got myself the best breakfast around: blueberry waffles, orange juice, an apple and a peanut butter bagel. Ugh it was going to be delicious. Tonight my family was going to go to our favorite restaurant, Hendersons, for their twentieth wedding anniversary. I was enjoying my breakfast and listening the morning news and reading my new book by someone who rhymes with Mames Jatterson. As I sat there reading my book, I heard my Mom and Dad coming down the stairs, oddly quiet because they normally sang their favorite song each morning. It was the song that they both heard the moment that they met, "All the Small Things" by Enema of the State. Not the most romantic song but they sang it every morning while blasting it from upstairs and make breakfast together.

That is how I knew something was wrong. Normally the blasting songs woke me up in the morning but it was an unusually quiet morning. It felt so depressing. I actually looked forward to the blasting music and my Mom singing horribly and my Dad playing the entire band while head banging. My parents just looked like the life was sucked out of their eyes. I felt anxious, which I never felt before because I never had to worry about anything in my life except for getting back my SAT scores which were a terrific 1928, though I wanted to go for a perfectly round number of 2000. When they came into the kitchen, I turned off the TV and just looked at them.

"What is going on with you today?" I asked them.

My parents sat next to each other, but not NEXT to each other. "Love bug we have something that we need to talk to you about," My dad looked at me. "We need to talk about something me and your mother have been discussing, more accurately what your mother has been wanting for quite sometime."

"Don't make me out to be the villain in this scenario Verne. You know that I have always thought that marriage was a horrible institution. You knew that I did not want to get married," my mother snapped at my father. I never heard my Mom say anything angry in general. Let alone snap at my own father.

"What are you talking about? I am starting to freak out here. Tell me what is going on?" I really started getting anxious.

"Honey, what your mother and I are trying to tell you is that we are getting a divorce."