Guilty pleasures

Today I fell in love a little bit.
With Dolly Parton.
DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

I mean, we all get a little bit of Dolly fever every now and then, and who hasn't danced to '9 to 5' on a cheesy night out?
 But this is different.
This wasn't 'classic' Dolly.
This was from an album from 2008. An album I didn't stumble across on spotify. Oh no. An album I have actually just copied onto my laptop having borrowed it from my sister, who stole it from her Dolly obsessed housemate. (OK, Ms Parson, so I'm not quite in love enough to buy your music. Give me time. And less songs about Jesus.)

It happened while I was washing windows.
See, my mum's been ill, hence me being a bit distracted and cake-loving of late (also there's the whole turning 24 while single bit, which, I have decided takes me officially into spinster territory) and I'm not the most proficient person at showing what people like to refer to as 'normal displays of human emotion'. I like to bottle them, keep them tucked away in my tummy-box like some belligerent gnome and feed them with junk food until I'm alone and able to indulge in shiny things or a 20 second burst of crying into the washing up.
This means I don't make a great nurse.
Don't get me wrong, I get the job done, but it's with brutal efficiency and the bedside manner of a sociopathic bear. I'm not great with sympathy. So, rather than sitting dutifully at her bedside wringing my hands, soothing her fevered brow and occasionally bursting into hysterical tears (my sister's approach), I took to cleaning her house instead.
As a friend pointed out, that isn't sympathy cleaning. That's guilt cleaning.
Sparkling clean guilt cleaning though. My conscience is clear as the patio doors (squeegeed, no less!).
After all, I'm leaving in 2 days for my new life, and she's not going to be strong enough to do it herself for a while, so really I'm being the eminently more helpful daughter in the long term (but, like some ancient parable, or Shakespeare tragedy, the wringing hands daughter is generally the favoured one...)
I've been beating rugs, hoovering the cats, scrubbing floors, washing all the windows I could reach without breaking my neck 10% of the windows I can reach (in my defence there are a LOT of windows. And most of them, like one in my room, have 48 panes of glass. It's a big house. With big, grand, rotting windows.)

Also, I wasn't allowed in her room having made her laugh one too many times.
 (laughing = coughing = death). 
And due to my reliance on grave humour, which was upsetting my sister.
So I didn't get the chance to try out the bedside vigil thing.
Well. Once. But that's because I was hungover and got into her bed to have a nice nap, under the sneaky pretence of 'poor mummy, I'll give you a cuddle to make you fee.....zzzzzzzzzz'......
It didn't quite work as planned. The antibiotics she's been given have been 'playing havoc with her digestion' according to her. In layman's terms... she's farty.
Which means as I'm drifting off........

*ppppfffttt*
that, I can ignore.
*pppfftttt.....*cough-cough* parp*
'Mum, that's horrible.'
'I can't help it' *parp* 'sorry'
'You're not trying.'
'Sorry'
minute of silence.
*cough-parp*
'Mum...'
*nose-blow* *ppaaaaarrrp-pffft* *cough*
 'I can still hear it. Under the nose-blowing. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. Trying to distract me from your farts by coughing over the top of...'
*rumble WWWMMMFFFFTTT PAAAARRRPPPP*
'MOTHER!'
 .....*pfffttt*'

So, once again, ejected from her room. On an ill wind. Literally.

ANYWAY,
back to Dolly Parton.
Listening to my freshly ripped tracks while doing battle with a 5'6 window, I came across a track called Better Get To Livin' and the lyrics (aside from the praying bit, naturally) hit home a little bit. I'm in a funk. The song is about not being in a funk. It worked, and I promptly emailed my sister telling her about my newly-found Dollymania and that Better Get To Livin' was going to be my 2011 anthem. My mantra.

And I started writing this post.
So I could share the Dolly loving.
So everyone else could get to livin'. And Lovin'. And a little bit of forgivin'
And then.....

 an update. In searching for the video for the song so I could post it, and having watched said video... I have actually fallen out of love a little with it. It's a pleasure so guilty that, having listened to it 6 times in the last 4 hours, isn't really pleasurable anymore.

But I will still post the video, purely so this post isn't made entirely redundant by my sudden change of emotion.
And, because Dolly is sporting a minature tophat remarkably similar to the one I was sporting on friday night when we went to see Le Chat Noir play. Who truly ARE awesome and you SHOULD check out.

But first, here's Dolly.....

Yes, it's cringeworthy in the extreme.
But Still.
I can't believe I wobbled over posting the link to a Dolly Parton video due to being embarrassed by it, and what people would think about me, when I'm planning on writing a post which is solely about my pubes.