Attack of the Crazy Aunt

I am going to be totally and completely irreverent here.....so if you can't take jokes about aging nuns...please stop reading now! The Background - Sr. Marcelle is my Dad's sister. She's been a nun since she's 17 and she's now 85. She's started to lose it a bit, as you can well imagine with a woman of that age. However, even when she was younger, she was always a bit of a PITA. Last year I ended out inviting her and 2 extra nuns to my parents' 50th wedding anniversary party because she finagled me into it.......but I digress. The Rest of the Background - Aunt Isy is my Dad's brother's widow. She moved into my neighborhood last year. Sadly, her only son passed away this week. She really has no blood relatives.....just her in-laws who are my parents and my family. I've been helping her out with some financial stuff so of course I was one of the first to know about her son. So today I get a voice message from Sr. Marcelle, "Karen. Uh........I guess it would be easier if you call me back. Here's my number." and she proceeds to give me my PARENTS' phone number. HUH? She lives about 2 1/2 hours away from my parents and doesn't drive. But who knows - maybe she wanted to be with my parents to commiserate over my cousin's death. (my cousin had elected to have no funeral or service of any kind, so she wasn't there for the funeral). So I figure she's just being cute....giving me my parent's number so she could answer their phone and "surprise" me there. So I call my parents' house, and my Dad answers. "Hey - I guess you have Sr. Marcelle there, huh?" My Dad was quite confused. "No," he says. "What the hell are you talking about?" Apparently Sr. Marcelle was just confused and somehow gave me my parents' number instead of her own. Okay. So I call her back at the convent. She just wanted to let me know about my cousin's death. uh huh. I already know, Auntie. She just wants me to make sure to call Aunt Isy every now and then - to reach out to her. I already am doing that, Auntie. Then she proceeded to tell me I was her favorite. Great. I called my Dad back, because he was bursting with curiousity over why Sr. Marcelle called me. When I told him I was her favorite, he said in that case, he'd sit me next to her at Thanksgiving. Great.