Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Marmalade at the Inn

Episode Date: March 13, 2023

Our story tonight is called Marmalade at the Inn and it’s a story about a few days at the Inn on the Lake. It’s also about dog beds laid out in front of the fire, three cups of coffee poured in the library, and a small adventure for three of our favorite souls in the village of Nothing Much. This week we are giving to the charity Blessings in a Backpack whose purpose is to mobilize communities, individuals, and resources to provide food on the weekends for school-aged children across America who might otherwise go hungry. https://linktr.ee/nothingmuchhappensPurchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Katherine Nicolai. I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. For bonus and ad-free episodes of the show, become a subscriber to our Premium Plus feed. We're also adding extra-long episodes

where we combine the individual stories of a series. We call those Slightly More Happens. And they are usually about an hour and a half long. Find it through the link tree in our show notes. This week we are giving to the charity Blessings in a Backpack, whose purpose is to mobilize communities, individuals, and resources to provide food on the weekends for school-age children across America who might otherwise go hungry.

Now, here's how this works. I'll tell a soft, relaxing story. And just by listening, you'll condition your brain and body to fall asleep and to return to sleep quickly and reliably. This conditioned response will get stronger with practice, so be patient if you are new to this. I'll tell this story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through. Okay, lights out, everyone.

It's time. Set everything down. Prioritize your own comfort. How do you need to arrange yourself to feel the most relaxed? And scan quickly through your body, from temples to toes, and relax anywhere that you are holding tension. Now, slow breath in.

And sigh. Again, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Good. Our story tonight is called Marmalade at the Inn, and it's a story about a few days at the inn on the lake. It's also about dog beds laid out in front of the fire, three cups of coffee poured in the library on a small adventure for three of our favorite souls in the village of nothing much marmalade at the inn

I heard their car pulling down the long circle drive in front in the fall, and I'd had anyone to pamper and feed. And yes, these guests would be different from the usual sort, who came to swim in the lake and nap in our hammocks. But I was determined that their stay would be just as enjoyable. I hurried down the wide front staircase, my hand skimming over the shining banister as I peered out the windows to the drive.

My guests were climbing out of the car and getting tangled in their leashes. I opened the door and stepped out in my slippers to help. The barking commenced. Excited jumping and tail wagging followed. Oh, can you grab Marmalade's crate? She's in the back seat. Sure, I said, and leaned in to see her eyeing me from inside her travel case. Come on, Marmy.

I've got a freshly wound ball of yarn for you to unravel. I lifted her case out carefully, and we all managed to make our way into the inn. I closed the door behind us, sat Marmalade down on the window seat, and opened the little door to she meowed grouchily and didn't move her mom leaned down to look in at her marmalade she said in a placating voice

we talked about this you've got this whole beautiful old house to poke through. So many window ledges to nap on. You might as well enjoy it, Marmalade meowed again in response. Oh, she'll get over herself in a minute or two She said, waving her hand at the cat Crumb was still jumping excitedly As they tried to get his leash off And Birdie, in a plaid sweater that went all the way down his spindly legs,

was already lying down in a patch of sunlight at the foot of the stairs. Bertie's dad laughed, looking at the tableau. I have a feeling you are getting a preview of the next few days, he said. Stubborn, excited, and asleep, and pointed to each animal in turn. Fine by me, I said. Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you go? Yes, please, they both said in unison, and we trooped down the long hallway to the library,

where I'd set up a little tray before they arrived. Crumb came barreling down the corridor. So excited to explore this new playhouse, and jumped onto the sofa beside the fire. He was small and fuzzy, with brown spiky fur that stood up all around his head. His eyes were hazel,

and for all his goofiness, they lent him some gravitas that made me think he was an old soul who had simply never grown up. I could hear Birdie's nails clacking on the wood floors behind us. And he ambled into the library, then immediately laid down again, now in front of the crackling fire. I stooped to stroke his head.

His gray fur was so soft, and he let out as a warm bed and a tasty meal. Well, that was easy enough. My friends settled down on the couch as Crumb jumped down to skitter past the windows, all of which were too high for him to see out of. I poured a cup of coffee for each of us from the carafe I'd brought up from the kitchen. I hesitated with the milk jug in my hand and looked over at them. Milk for me, please, she said, and added sugar for him.

He smiled at her as I handed over the cups. Oh gosh, they were cute. We sipped from our cups, and they told me about their trip. A few days on a faraway beach, where the air was warm, and the sun was out all day. It didn't sound bad at all. Here the seasons were still vacillating. We'd had a bit of near spring, then a big snowstorm. And now it was warmer, but rainy and gray.

The wind was blowing fiercely today, and I hoped it would dry up the muddy spots in the yard so that the dogs and I could play outside. Crumb, having finished his inspection of the perimeter, came around to my chair and jumped up onto my lap. I set down my cup before I could spill it, and began to scratch his back and rub his ears. When I paused for a moment,

he turned and looked at me and thrust his head under my palm, a small whine in the back of his throat, and I laughed and petted him again. After we went through their itinerary, and they told me about the restaurant where they'd booked a table for a fancy dinner beside the ocean. We went over my guests' culinary preferences, their daily grooming needs, and sleeping arrangements. Namely, that Crum could have a pup cup if we went out. Bertie didn't seem to care for them. The dogs would sleep as late as I liked,

but needed to go straight out when we did get up. Marmy and Crumb slept on the bed, unusually under the blankets. But Bird had his own bed and liked his space. Crumb didn't like thunderstorms and if he got pup-set, I could give him his CBD treats to calm him down.

I resisted the urge to take notes, promising them that I would take good care of their babies. See, they'll be fine, she said, reaching for his hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it and smiled at her again. Just as we were setting the cups back on their tray, we heard a small meow from the doorway. We turned as one to look at Marmalade sitting on the threshold, her eyes wide, a little indignant that we'd left her all alone. Her mom went to her and scooped her up in her arms.

She carried the fluffy orange kitty to the window and whispered to her as they looked out together. I could hear a few words about the birds in the trees, the ducks starting to return to the lake. Marmalade began to purr, and her mom tilted her head down to plant a kiss on her forehead. I thought of how far Marmalade had come, from being alone and cold as a kitten out in the snow, to finding a home with a mom who loved her

and part of a growing family, to now having her own holiday in this beautiful grand house. Innkeepers need someone to keep, to take care of, and for the next few days, she would be the fluffy orange lady of the house. Marmalade at the inn. I heard their car pulling down the long circle drive in front of the inn,

and a smile spread over my face. An innkeeper likes to have guests and it felt like an age since we closed up in the fall and I'd had anyone to pamper and feed. And yes, these guests would be different from the usual sort who came to swim in the lake and nap in our hammocks.

But I was determined that their stay would be just as enjoyable. I hurried down the wide front staircase, my hand skimming over the shining banister as I peered out the windows to the drive. My guests were climbing out of the car and getting tangled in their leashes. I opened the door and stepped out in my slippers to help.

The barking commenced. Excited jumping and tail wagging followed. Can you grab Marmalade's crate? She's in the back seat. Sure, I said, and leaned in to see her eyeing me from inside her travel case. Come on, Marmy.

I've got a freshly wound ball of yarn for you to unravel. I lifted her case out carefully, and we all managed to make our way into the inn. I closed the door behind us, set Marmalade down on the window seat, and opened the little door in her crate. She meowed grouchily and didn't move. Her mom leaned down to look in at her. Marmalade, she said in a placating voice. We talked about this. You've got this whole beautiful old house to poke through.

So many window ledges to nap on. You might as well enjoy it. Marmalade meowed again in response. Oh, she'll get over herself in a minute or two, she said, waving her hand at the cat. Crumb was still jumping excitedly as they tried to get his leash off. And Bertie, in a plaid sweater that went all the way down his spindly legs,

was already lying down in a patch of sunlight at the foot of the stairs. Bertie's dad laughed, looking at the tableau. I have a feeling you're getting a preview of the next few days, he said, stubborn, excited, and asleep, and pointed to each animal in turn. Fine by me, I said. Do you have time for a cup of coffee before you go? Yes, please, they both said in unison, and we trooped down the long hallway to the library where I'd set up a little tray before they'd arrived. Crumb came barreling down the corridor, so excited to explore this new playhouse, and jumped onto the sofa beside the fire. He was small and fuzzy, with brown spiky fur that stood up all around his head. His eyes were hazel, and for all his goofiness,

they lent him some gravitas. That made me think his was an old soul who had simply never grown up. I could hear Birdie's nails clacking on the wood floors behind us, and he ambled into the library and immediately laid back down, now in front of the crackling fire. I stooped to stroke his head. His gray fur was so soft, and he let out a dog sigh and closed his eyes.

A rescued greyhound, Bird had the energy of a good-natured but sleepy grandpa, who wanted nothing so much as a warm bed and a tasty meal. Well, that was easy enough. My friends settled down on the couch as Crumb jumped down to skitter past the windows, all of which were too high for him to see out of. I poured a cup of coffee for each of us from the carafe I'd brought up from the kitchen. I hesitated with the milk jug in my hand and looked over at them. Milk for me, please, she said,

and added sugar for him. He smiled at her as I handed over the cups. Oh gosh, they were cute. We sipped from our cups, and they told me about their trip. A few days on a faraway beach where the air was warm and the sun was out all day. It didn't sound bad at all. Here, the seasons were still vacillating.

We'd had a bit of near spring, then a big snowstorm, and now it was warmer, but rainy and gray. The wind was blowing fiercely today, and I hoped it would dry up the muddy spots in the yard so that the dogs and I could play outside. Crumb, having finished his inspection of the perimeter,

came around to my chair and jumped up onto my lap. I set down my cup before I could spill it and began to scratch his back and rub his ears. When I paused for a moment, he turned to look at me and thrust his head under my palm, a small whine in the back of his throat, and I laughed and petted him again. After we went through their itinerary, and they told me about the restaurant where they'd booked a table for a fancy dinner beside the ocean. We went over my guests' culinary preferences, their daily grooming needs, and sleeping arrangements. Namely, that Crum could have a pup cup if we went

out. A birdie didn't seem to care for them. The dogs would sleep as late as I liked, but but needed to go straight out when we did get up. Marmy and Crumb slept on the bed and usually under the blankets. But Bird had his own bed and liked his space. Crumb didn't like thunderstorms, and if he got upset, I could give him his CBD treats to calm him down. I resisted the urge to take notes, promising them that I would take good care of their babies. See, they'll be fine, she said, reaching for his hand. He lifted hers to his lips and kissed it and smiled at her again.

Just as we were setting the cups back on their tray, we heard a small meow from the doorway. We turned as one to look at Marmalade, sitting on the threshold, her eyes wide, a little indignant that we'd left her all alone. Her mom went to her and scooped her up in her arms. She carried the fluffy orange kitty to the window and whispered to her as they looked out together. I could hear a few words about the birds in the trees,

the ducks starting to return to the lake. I thought of how far Marmalade had come from being alone and cold as a kitten out in the snow to finding a home with a mom who loved her and part of a growing family to now having her own holiday in this beautiful grand house. Innkeepers need someone to keep, to take care of.

And for the next few days, she would be the fluffy orange lady of the house. Sweet dreams.