A Funeral Hoax

Last night, I got a call from Ganny at about 6:30.
Gan: "Brandy, Alene called. Tommy died."
Alene is Ganny's cousin and life-long friend. She only lives about 30 minutes from me. Tommy is Alene's husband and apparently he had been ill for quite some time. While I know Alene well, I haven't seen her in a few years.
Me: "Oh, Gan, oh no. That's terrible. I'm sorry."
Gan (cutting me off.): "Well, I'd like to go to the funeral but I don't have a car so,"
She brings this up daily. She hasn't had a car in almost 2 years.
Me: "No Gan, I understand. You just find out when it is and we'll go."
Gan (cutting me off again): "It's tomorraw. It's at 10:30 tomorraw morning."
Me: "Oh, goodness. Okay. Do you know where it is?"
Gan: "No...no." Silence.
Me: "Can you get an address? Call her back and write down exactly what she says." This step is essential. Gan can't remember any new information for any period of time. The irony is she can't remember the fact that she's supposed to write things down by the time she gets the information again.
Gan: "Okay, okay, I'll call you right back."
2-3 minutes later -
Gan: "It's at 11:30. Well, at 10:30. It starts at 11:30 but she said she wanted us there to see everyone at 10:30."
I didn't quite understand that but whatever.
Me: "That's fine. We can do that. Did you get the address?"
Gan (pause): "No...she wants us to go to her house. I'll call back and get the address."
I thought I remembered where Alene lives, but it couldn't hurt to make sure.
At this point, I should've called her myself. I deserve everything that occurs after this. I just didn't feel like calling an elderly relative I hadn't talked to in years when her husband just died. I suffered the consequences.
2-3 minutes later - maybe less. Gan called me back and gave me the address of Alene's house.
Me: "Okay Gan, I'll call you when I get up in the morning and I'll pick you up about 9:30." She can no longer work an alarm clock no matter how simple it may be.
Gan: "Okay darlin' okay, bye bye."
2-3 minutes later. Gan called again.
Gan: "Brandy, I need pantyhose."
Me (sigh): "Um, alright. I'll stop and get you some on my way over in the morning."
Gan: "Unless you have some you can bring me,"
Sigh again.

For whatever reason, I couldn't sleep last night - I mean at all. It's not unusual for me to have trouble falling asleep, or to wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep, but I rarely don't sleep at all. Well last night I didn't. I dozed off watching Kevin Hart on my DVR at about 6:30 this morning. Needless to to say, when the alarm went off at 8:00 I was beyond miserable. But this is a funeral for Pete's sake. There are some things in life you do because it's the right thing.

I drug myself out of bed and made the obligatory Ganny wake-up call.
Gan: "Now, where are we going?"
Me (rolling my eyes) "You don't remember?"
Gan: "Well, we're going to Alene's,"
Me: "Yes, do you remember why?"
Gan: "I think we're going to a wedding or something. Yeah, a wedding."
Unfortunately this type of thing isn't unusual for her these days. Her short term memory is gone - obviously.
I explained what we were really doing, found an uncomfortable black dress to wear and made my way to her apartment, grabbing pantyhose along the way.
I walked in, pantyhose in hand and the first thing she said was, "We've got a problem."
I thought maybe her dress was torn, or she couldn't find shoes or something.
Gan: "We're not going. I called and she said they're ahead of us and not to come today but to come next week sometime."
I truly wanted to slap her. Judge me if you must.
I questioned her repeatedly to no avail. I tried to call Alene to get the story first hand, but she didn't answer. I wasted my time giving her a lecture about writing things down.
I tried to just go back home but she complained that she was hungry, and she didn't want to sit in her apartment bored all day. (Mind you there's bingo, canasta, singalongs, everything except a dog and pony show, and sometimes that too, downstairs at her apartments, but no - she'd rather sit in her apartment and complain about it.) I ended up bringing her back home with me, making her a waffle, and turning on Dr. Phil for her (her choice). In the meantime, I began this blog.

So this is what I'm left with. Was there a funeral today? Did this guy even die? Can I get a medal please?