Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Old Friends

Episode Date: August 22, 2022

Our story tonight is called Old Friends and it’s a story about plans falling apart so that something even better can fall together. It’s also about a spoonful of sugar stirred into a cup of hot coffee, the ease of being with those who know you best, and a movie marathon watched from the couch while the rain comes down. Order the book now! Get our ad-free and bonus episodes.Purchase Our Book: https://bit.ly/Nothing-Much-HappensSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Grownups, 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, with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. If you just said all of that with me, well, I think you might just be a fully-fledged member of the village of Nothing Much. If you need to get a Nothing Much Happens hoodie or a water bottle or some lovely pencils to sharpen to a fine point with a sharpener in the basement, head over to NothingMuchHappens.com. And if you're new here, welcome. I'm so glad you're here.

I'm about to tell you a bedtime story. And the story is a place to rest your mind so that it doesn't wander and race and keep you up. All you need to do is listen and let the simple details catch you. As you do, you'll begin to create a reliable response in your brain and nervous system that will lead to deep, regular sleep.

I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through. If you find yourself awake again in the middle of the night, don't hesitate to turn this right back on and listen again. Soon, just hearing me read a few words will tip you into dreamland. But the brain training does take a bit of time, so be patient at first. Now, it's time to switch off the light. Set aside anything you've been working on or playing with.

And get your body into the most comfortable position that you can find. Whatever you got to today, whatever you got done, it is enough. You have done enough for today. It's okay to just let go now. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Good. Our story tonight is called Old Friends. And it's a story about plans falling apart, so something even better can fall together. It's also about a spoonful of sugar stirred into a cup of coffee, the ease of

being with those who know you best, and a movie marathon watched from the couch while old friends. New friends are nice. Meeting new people, finding something in common, building up an affinity, learning about their past and sense of humor and how they take their coffee. All of that is lovely and important. But old friends?

Hmm. Now there's a treasure. Friends who understand you better than you sometimes understand yourself. Friends with whom you can sit quietly and read books. Friends who don't care if you haven't gotten out of your pajamas when they come over on a rainy day. And so I hadn't. Gotten out of my pajamas, that is. We'd planned to spend the day together with my dog Crum,

my orange kitty Marmalade, and his big, sweet greyhound Birdie. But the sunshine we'd counted on was replaced with rain and thunderstorms and bright bursts of lightning. Rather than call off the playdate, we'd decided to lounge with all the animals on my sofa and watch movies. At first, I'd been a bit disappointed. I'd bought a few new toys and balls for Bertie to chase, and made puppy freezer pops with mashed banana and peanut butter for them to slobber over on the patio.

I'd wanted to see the dog splashing through the kiddie pool I'd pulled out of the garage. But now, as the rain came down, I found myself so glad to have a gloomy day. I needed the break from the heat and the humidity. Kram and I had been on so many long walks this summer. The thought of putting my feet up and just resting and being with an old friend

sounded so good so I hadn't changed out of my pajamas but I had brushed my teeth and sort of stuck a clip in my hair. The storm had cooled off the house, and I pulled on an old cardigan over my t-shirt, but left my feet bare to enjoy the cool feel of the slate tiles in my entryway. I'd been keeping an eye out for Birdie and his dad through the drenching rains

so I could throw the door open as soon as they climbed the front steps. Crumb didn't like the storms because he didn't like the loud booms of thunder but Birdie didn't like them because he didn't like to get wet Do you think Birdie will have his sweater on? I whispered to Marmalade who was keeping watch with me from her perch in the front window.

She turned her soft, orange face and discerning, gold-green eyes to me. I was sure she knew quite a few words, just as Crumb did. They knew their names, words for their favorite treats and things to do, and I was sure they knew the word birdie. Marmee turned back to the window, scanning the street for her giant gray friend. Bluebird was the first dog she'd met after she'd come to live with me. I'd wanted to see how she would do around dogs, and since Bertie was the gentlest, sleepiest old man of a dog I knew, I'd asked my friend to bring him over

while she was still a kitten. He'd been so patient with her while she jumped and pounced and tossed her catnip mouse at him. He just curled up, unfazed and fallen asleep in front of her. She'd climbed all over him, finally dozing between his big front paws. She loved him like Crumb loved her. Isn't it always the way?

She stood up suddenly on her perch, and I watched her eyes focusing through the downpour. Sure enough, a car was turning into the driveway, and we both spotted Birdie in the passenger seat. In a quick, wet rush, they both scampered up the steps and through the door Crumb came racing in not wanting to be late to the party

barking and sniffing my friend passed me Bird's leash while he dashed back out for a giant floppy dog bed and the potato salad he'd made for our now-rained-out barbecue. not only wearing a sweater. I saw his dad had dressed him in his yellow rain slicker, complete with booties and a hat, and I laughed as I started freeing him from it. I squatted down

so I could give him a scratch under his chin and commiserate with him about his outfit. My friend had finally made his last trip in and closed the door behind him as I said, Did your dad make you wear this? and clicked my tongue. He doesn't like the rain, you know that. Yes, but he does like fashion, I said back, and we all trooped through the hall toward the kitchen. It was late morning, though with the dark, stormy skies, it could have been night. Coffee, I asked, while he put the potato salad in the fridge. Is it a fresh pot, or is that the one you made this morning? It is fresh, I said, just barely rolling my eyes, and I took a mug down from the cupboard for him. He scooped up crumb and sat at the table with him while I stirred some sugar into his coffee. If you asked him,

he'd say he drank his coffee black, but the truth is that he likes it a little sweet. I set it down in front of him and topped up my own cup. He must have had treats in his pocket, because crumb was crunching loudly as I sat down beside him. Birdie ambled over and laid his head in my hand. He was the oldest of our bunch at six years, but he had a grandpa energy about him and had since he was first adopted. He liked a routine, his meals, and his bed. His coat was a silvery-gray-blue that showed up differently in different lights.

His ears were incredibly soft, and they drooped on either side of his head as he watched marmalade climb into my lap. She reached out slowly with her face and lightly touched her nose to his. He blinked slowly at her. My life was good. We chatted, petted the dogs, and tried to agree on a movie, eventually settling on a trilogy that we had watched at least five times before. We carried our coffee cups over to the couch and brought Birdie's bed in beside it. He was just too big, with those long spindly legs to fit on the sofa. And anyway, he wanted to stretch and sleep.

I pulled a few blankets from a basket and we tossed them over ourselves as Marmee and Crumb picked out their spots. Crumb liked to pace and scratch a bit before plopping down, and I heckled him, calling out, down in front. The rain was falling in sheets, and the light inside the house was dim and dusky. I pressed play and sipped on my coffee and we settled in to watch together. Old Friends

New friends are nice. old friends. New friends are nice. Meeting new people. Finding something in common. Building up an affinity. Learning about their past and sense of humor, and how they take their coffee. All of that is lovely and important, but old friends, hmm, now there's a treasure. Friends who understand you better than you sometimes understand yourself.

Friends with whom you can sit quietly and read books, friends who don't care if you haven't gotten out of your pajamas when they come over on a rainy day. And so I hadn't gotten out of my pajamas, that is. We'd planned to spend the day together with my dog, Crumb, my orange kitty, Marmalade,

and his big, sweet greyhound, Birdie. But the sunshine we'd counted on was replaced with rain and thunderstorms and bright bursts of lightning. Rather than call off the playdate, we'd decided to lounge with all the animals on my sofa and just watch movies. At first, I'd been a bit disappointed. I'd bought a few new toys and balls for Birdie and made puppy freezer pops with mashed banana and peanut butter

for them to slobber over on the patio. I'd wanted to see the dogs splashing through the kiddie pool I'd pulled out of the garage. But now, as the rain came down, I found myself so glad to have a gloomy day.

I needed the break from the heat and the humidity. Crum and I had been on so many long walks this summer. The thought of putting my feet up and just resting and being with an old friend sounded so good. So I hadn't changed out of my pajamas, but I had brushed my teeth and sort of stuck a clip in my hair. The storm had cooled off the house, and I pulled on an old cardigan over my t-shirt, but left my feet bare to enjoy the cool feel of the slate tiles in my entryway.

I'd been keeping an eye out for Birdie and his dad through the drenching rains, so I could throw the door open as soon as they climbed the front steps. Crumb didn't like the storms, because he didn't like the loud booms of thunder. But Birdie didn't like them because he didn't like to get wet. Do you think Birdie will have his sweater on? I whispered to Marmalade, who was keeping watch with me from her perch in the front window. She turned her soft, orange face and discerning, gold-green eyes to me. I was sure she knew quite a few words, just as Crumb did.

They both knew their names, words for their favorite treats and things to do. And I was sure they knew the word birdie. Marmee turned back to the window, scanning the street for her giant gray friend. Bluebird was the first dog she'd met after she'd come to live with me. I'd wanted to see how she would do around dogs, and since Birdie was the gentlest, sleepiest old man of a dog I knew, I'd asked my friend to bring him over while she was still a kitten. He'd been so patient with her while she jumped and pounced and tossed her catnip mouse at him.

He'd just curled up, unfazed, and fallen asleep in front of her. She'd climbed all over him, finally dozing between his big front paws. She loved him like Crumb loved her. Oh, isn't it always the way? She stood up suddenly on her perch, and I watched her eyes focusing through the downpour.

Sure enough, a car was turning into the driveway, and we both spotted Birdie in the passenger seat. In a quick, wet rush, they both scampered up the steps and through the door. Crumb came racing in, not wanting to be late to the party, barking and sniffing. My friend passed me Bird's leash while he dashed back out for her giant floppy dog bed and the potato salad he'd made for our now-rained-out barbecue.

Birdie was not only wearing a sweater. I saw his dad had dressed him in his yellow rain slicker, complete with booties and a hat, and I laughed as I started freeing him from it. I squatted down so I could give him a scratch under his chin and commiserate with him about his outfit. My friend had finally made his last trip in and closed the door behind him as I said, Did your dad make you wear this?

and clicked my tongue. He doesn't like the rain, you know that. Yes, but he does like fashion I said and we all trooped through the hall toward the kitchen it was late morning though with the dark stormy skies it could have been night

coffee I asked It could have been night. Coffee, I asked, while he put the potato salad in the fridge. Is it a fresh pot? Or is that the one you made this morning? It is fresh, I said, just barely rolling my eyes. "'He nodded assent, and I took a mug down from the cupboard for him. "'He scooped crumb up and sat at the table with him "'while I stirred some sugar into his coffee. If you asked him, he'd say he drank his coffee black,

but the truth is that he likes it a little sweet. I set it down in front of him and topped up my own cup. He must have had treats in his pocket because crumb was crunching loudly as I sat down beside him. Bertie ambled over and laid his head in my hand. He was the oldest of our bunch

at six years, but he had a grandpa energy about him, and had since he was first adopted. He liked a routine, his meals, and his bed. His coat was a silvery-gray-blue that showed up differently in different lights. His ears were incredibly soft, and they drooped on either side of his head as he watched marmalade climb onto my lap. She reached out slowly with her face and lightly touched her nose to his. He blinked slowly at her. Oh, my life was good. We chatted, petted the dogs, and tried to agree on a movie, eventually settling on a trilogy that we'd watched at least five times before. We carried our coffee cups over to the couch and brought Birdie's bed in beside it. He was just too big

with those long spindly legs to fit on the sofa. And anyway, he wanted to stretch out and sleep. I pulled a few blankets from a basket, and we tossed them over ourselves as marmalade and crumb picked out their spots. Crumb liked to pace and scratch a bit before plopping down, and I heckled him, calling out, down in front. The rain was falling in front. The rain was falling in sheets and the light inside the house

was dim and dusky. I pressed play and sipped on my coffee and we settled in to watch together. Sweet dreams.