November the Second is late by a month and a day

“Right, so let’s look at your final score shall we?”
“What?”
“You started off with a perfectly adequate planet. Great living conditions. Stellar views, if you’ll pardon the pun.”
“What?”
“What seems to be the confusion?”
“Like, where the fuck am I?”
“You died.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“So, what’s the deal now? Is it heaven, or… you know, the other place?”
“No, I don’t think you understand. You died.”
“Alright-“
“So as I was saying. Final scoring and all that. You let the world go to pot, destroyed the ozone layer, ran out the natural resources, murdered large swathes of the population, enriched yourself and-“
“Wait, I think there’s been a mistake? I’m a manager at a Co-op? I do spreadsheets and shift rotas for a living. I order food.”
“And?”
“Well it sounds like you’re blaming me for the state of the world.”
“Well it was your world, innit.”
“What?”
“Look, one life, one soul. Got it?”
“Um, no, not really?”
“Alright. Imagine a bunch of postboxes in a large apartment complex with, say, 18 units.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. So there are 18 post boxes, but on any given day there’s only one letter in any given postbox.”
“Right.”
“Right. So, that.”
“What?”
“What are you not getting? You’re the letter. It goes from postbox to postbox.”
“I’m a letter?”
“No, you’re a soul. One soul. One life, one soul. All of humanity, across eons of time, that was you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. The good ones, and the shit ones. And let me tell you, there were a lot of shit ones. And now you’re dead. Like, properly dead. Kaput. Finished. The End. Do not pass go, etcetera. No more 4th dimensional being occupying 3 dimensional space.”
“Oh god.”
“Not really. Just you. The murderers, the fiends, the capitalists, all you. You let your base nature get the better of you and now the world’s properly fucked. No more humanity. It’s a relief, really. I wasn’t sure I could take much more.”
“So, um, what happens next?”
“Well, now I get to fuck off, and you have to wait and see. Here’s my clipboard, I’m keeping the pen. Don’t forget to take notes. Try not to be too hard on the poor fuckers who inherit your mess, they’ll probably be along in a few thousand years if the weather ever stabilises. If not, well I guess you’re here until the sun burns out. Bye!”