Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Pool Day (Encore)

Episode Date: August 6, 2026

Originally Aired: August 4th, 2025 (Season 16 Episode 10) Our story tonight is called Pool Day, and it’s a story about a cool dip in the water on a hot summer day. It’s also about the tiled walls of the changing rooms, broad open umbrellas, and rows of lounge chairs. A book by your side, droplets on your skin, and the heavy sleep that swallows you up after a day in the sun and water. Subscribe to our ⁠⁠⁠⁠Premium channel.⁠⁠⁠⁠ The first month is on us. 💙 Upgrade your everyday. Download the Quince app for app-exclusive offers, or go to quince.com/nothingmuch. Get free shipping on your order and 365-day returns. Now available in Canada and the UK, too. Join⁠⁠ the Village of Nothing Much App! Order Kathryn’s new book ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠On the Street Where You Live⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠NMH Merch, Autographed Books and More!⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Listen to our daytime show ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Stories from the Village of Nothing Much⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠Sit Meditation with Kathryn⁠⁠⁠⁠ Follow us on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠ Visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠Nothing Much Happens⁠⁠⁠⁠ for more Village fun! Sign-Up for our Newsletter ⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠ to be in the know! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Get more Nothing Much Happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories, and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love. Subscribe now. Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolai.

I write and read all the stories you hear on nothing much happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We are bringing you an encore episode tonight, meaning that this story originally aired at some point in the past. It could have been recorded with different equipment in a different location. And since I'm a person and not a computer, I sometimes sound just slightly different,

but the stories are always soothing and family-friendly, and our wishes for you are always deep rest and sweet dreams. Okay, so here's how this works, and we know it works after nearly 200 million downloads. We've figured out how to do this, just by listening to the story I have for you, you'll shift your brain activity away from the constantly spiraling default mode

and into the sleep accessible task positive mode. You don't need to understand any of that for it to work. Just relax and listen. I'll tell the story twice. And I'll go a little slower the second time through. If you wake again in the night, don't hesitate to turn another story on. It'll help you go right back to sleep. Our story tonight is called Pool Day,

and it's a story about a cool dip in the water on a hot summer day. It's also about the tiled walls of the changing room. broad open umbrellas and rows of lounge chairs, a book by your side, droplets on your skin, and the heavy sleep that swallows you up after a day in the sun and water. August always makes me want to reset my routines, and one of the easiest places to start is my bed. I use quince bedding, and I love how it. but makes bedtime feel more comfortable and a little more luxurious. Their European linen is made from premium flax.

It gets softer every time I wash it, and it has that relaxed, sort of lived-in feel that works year-round. They also make breathable organic cotton sheets, plus lightweight quilts and coverlets for cooler nights. Quince partners directly with ethical factories and cuts out the middlemen, so their products cost 50 to 80. percent less than similar brands.

Upgrade your every day. Download the Quince app for app exclusive offers, or go to Quince.com slash nothing much. Get free shipping on your order and 365-day returns. Now available in Canada and the UK too. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com slash nothing much. It's time. The day is done.

And you have done all that you need to. to. You are right now just where you are supposed to be. So let go. It's okay. Let go. I'll take the next watch. Take a deep breath in through your nose. Let it out your mouth. Nice. One more. Breathe in. And out. Good. Pool day. It was the place to be today. on a hot, late summer day, one with a cloudless sky and almost too much sun. The village pool was calling my name. I walked up the path to the gate. My beach bag slung over my shoulders. And my flip-flops slapping against the concrete. I could hear a few voices calling out. Marco and Polo, the riffling sound of umbrella fabric in the breeze, and the almost audible hum of heat in the atmosphere.

The gate creaked a bit as I lifted the latch and walked through, and I fumbled in my bag for my sun hat, clapping it onto my head and sighing with the relief of shade over my eyes and the sweet sight of the village pool with plenty of open lounge chairs and shady spots to stretch out in. I've been coming here since I was in water wings. In fact, I'd taken swim classes in the shallow end. and learned just enough about diving to avoid belly flops on the board. It was a large, rectangular pool with faded, painted lines on the concrete surround, a tall lifeguards chair, a snack bar and changing rooms,

that all added up to one of my favorite places to spend a summer day. I strolled down the side of the pool, watching a few people on floats and inner tubes, enjoying the sun and cool water. I've always been tickled by the fact that when we are out in the sun, at the beach, or by the pool,

we recognize that we are going to need to lie down. Even folks who struggle to relax and rest will almost always surrender to the urge to be horizontal when under the sun and near the water. And I was not a person who struggled to relax I rather hoped we could extend the custom to more places. Loungers at the lanes? Trundle beds at the train station.

Cots at the cafe. I hoped it would be the wave of the future. Speaking of waves. A swimmer breast stroking through a lane at the far end of the pool, was hardly making any, and I was impressed. While I could certainly swim a few laps,

tread water when needed, and sometimes float stretched out on my back. I didn't have good form. Didn't even know what it was and wasn't. The swimmer flipped in the water as he came to the wall, pushed off and started another lap. I thought it must be a meditative kind of movement, the rhythm that would build as he worked back and forth across the pool,

creating a calm inner space. The lounge chairs were set out in rows, with plenty of umbrellas scattered among them. And I settled my bag onto one in a quiet empty section. The umbrella nearby was still closed, and I took a few moments to crank it open and tilt it, until my chair was well shaded. My bag held a paperback,

a mystery that I'd found in the little library on my corner the week before. I'd fallen asleep reading it in bed, and planned to do exactly the same thing on this lounge chair. But first, I needed a couple of towels. I stashed my flip-flops under the chair and headed toward the cabana. It was a squat, square building, with changing rooms on either side, and a towel desk in the front. The changing rooms were surprisingly beautiful,

and I remembered being amazed by them when I was a child. They had high windows, and let aquacolored light in, and along the walls and floors were tile mosaics, showing fish and mermaids, and fountains overflowing with spruly sparkling water, although I already had my swimsuit on under my sundress.

I still poked my head in, just to admire the tiles and listen to the way the voices from outside. Echoed against the walls. I grabbed two giant towels from the booth and made my way back around the pool. The cement under my feet was hotter than I expected, but I sort of enjoyed the way it tingled against my souls. The idea of a swim was sounding better by the minute. I dropped my towels off on my chair and slipped out of my dress, hanging it from a spoke of the umbrella. My steps grew more hurried on the hot walk

as I made my way back to the pool, and I heard a voice in my head that had been well-planted from childhood, say, no running by the pool. I chuckled and went carefully. The pool had a sunshelph with a series of wide steps leading in at one corner and several ladders here and there. I decided on the stairs. And that first step in was heavenly. The water was cool and refreshing. And suddenly, I wanted to be surrounded by it. Step by step, I plunged forward

until I was up to my shoulders. The way the coolness spread through my whole body from my first swim as a kid to this one, and every dip in between. It never got old. It always felt so good. I sighed, happy and grateful for this resource. I knew not every community had.

I dove under and pulled myself through the water. broke the surface and flipped onto my back, kicking my feet, and taking lazy backstrokes. I remembered staying in the water so long when I was young that my fingers turned pruny. My hair turned green at the tips,

and when I'd finally been pried, out for the night. I could feel a bit of water in my chest with every deep breath. For now, I'd had enough. I was refreshed and ready for my lounge chair. I swam to the ladder and reached up, feeling the warm aluminum under my hands. I pulled myself up and climbed out on top. I climbed out on to the pool deck. There is a scent, pool water on concrete, and it bloomed under me as I walked. At my chair, I stopped to apply a bit more sunscreen and arrange my towels, one long under my body, and one rolled to support my head, and settled to my head. and settle down in the shade.

What a feeling. That pleasant fatigue from the heat, the coolness of the droplets, still on my skin, the scent of my sunscreen, and the sound of the water. Lapping at the pool's edge, I set my book at my side,

let my damp palm rest on the cover, and closed my eyes. I knew I was about to fall asleep. I could feel it coming like a ball rolling downhill, picking up momentum to carry me off. I had a fleeting thought of going to the snack bar when I woke up, sliding open the door on their big ice cream cooler. and leaning in to find a red twin popsicle later.

Right now, I would just drift away. Pool day. It was the place to be today on a hot, late summer day, one with a cloudless sky, an almost too much sun. the village pool was calling my name. I walked up the path to the gate, my beach bag slung over my shoulder, and my flip-flops slapping against the concrete.

I could hear a few voices, calling out Marco and Polo, the riffling sound, of umbrella fabric in the breeze, and the almost audible hum of heat in the atmosphere. The gate creaked a bit as I lifted the latch and walked through, and I fumbled in my bag for my sun hat, clapping it onto my head, and sighing with the relief of shade over my eyes,

and the sweet sight of the vexed of the veil. village pool with plenty of open lounge chairs and shady spots to stretch out in. I've been coming here since I was in water wings. In fact, I'd taken swim classes in the shallow end and learned just enough about diving to avoid belly flops on the board. It was a large, rectangular pool with faded, painted lines on the concrete surround, a tall lifeguards chair, a snack bar, and changing rooms that added up to one. one of my favorite places to spend a summer day. I strolled down the side of the pool,

watching a few people on floats and inner tubes, enjoying the sun and cool water, and began my hunt for the perfect spot. I've always been tickled by the fact that when we are out in the sun, at the beach, or by the pool, we all recognize that we are going to need to lie down. Even folks who struggle to relax and rest will almost always surrender to the urge to be,

horizontal when under the sun and near the water. And I was not a person who struggled to relax. I rather hoped we could extend the custom to more places, loungers at the lanes, trundle beds at the train station, Cots at the cafe. I hoped it would be the wave of the future. Speaking of waves, a swimmer breast-stroking through a lane at the far end of the pool. Was hardly making any, and I was impressed. Well, I could certainly swim a few laps, tread water when needed. and sometimes float stretched out on my back. I didn't have good form, didn't even know what it was and wasn't. The swimmer flipped in the water as he came to the wall,

pushed off and started another lap. I thought it must be a meditative kind of movement, the rhythm that would build up as you worked back and forth across the pool, creating a calm inner space. The lounge chairs were set out in rows with plenty of umbrellas, scattered among them, and I settled my bag onto one. in a quiet, empty section. The umbrella nearby was still closed,

and it took a few moments to crank it open and tilt it, until my chair was well shaded. My bag held a paperback, a mystery that I'd found in the little library on my corner the week before. I'd fallen asleep breeding it in bed and planned to do exactly the same thing on this lounge chair. But first, I needed a couple of towels. I stashed my flip-flops under the chair and headed toward the cabana.

It was a squat, square building with changing rooms on either side. and a towel desk in the front. The changing rooms were surprisingly beautiful, and I remembered being amazed by them when I was a child. They had high windows that let aqua-colored light in, and along the walls and floors were tile mosaics, showing fish and mermaids, and fountains overflowing with sparkling water.

Although I already had my swimsuit on under my sundress, I still poked my head in just to admire the tiles and listen to the way the voices from outside echoed against the walls. I grabbed two giant towels from the booth and made my way back around the pool. The cement under my feet was hotter than I expected, but I sort of enjoyed the way it tingled against my souls. The idea of a swim was sounding better by the minute. I dropped my towels off on my chair and slipped out of my dress, hanging it from a spoke of the umbrella. My steps grew more hurried on the hot walkways, and I heard a voice in my head that had been planted from childhood,

saying, no running by the pool. I chuckled and went carefully. The pool had a sun shelf with a series of wide steps, leading in at one corner and several ladders here and there. I decided on the stairs and that first step in, was heavenly. The water was cool and refreshing. And suddenly I wanted to be surrounded by it. Step by step, I plunged forward until I was up to my shoulders, the way the coolness spread through my body from my first swim as a kid to this one.

And every dip in between, it never got old. It always felt so good. I sighed, happy and grateful for this resource I knew not every community had. I dove under and pulled myself through the water, broke the surface, and flipped onto my back, kicking my feet, and taking lazy backstrokes. I thought of the times when I was young that I'd stayed in the water so long that my fingers turned pruny, my hair turned groaning, my hair turned gross,

at the tips, and when I'd finally been pried out for the night, I could feel a bit of water, rattling in my chest with every breath. For now, I'd had enough. I was refreshed and ready for my lounge chair. I swam to a ladder and reached up, feeling the warm aluminum under my hands. hands. I pulled myself up, climbed out onto the pool deck. There's a scent, so familiar, pool water on concrete, and it bloomed under me as I walked. At my chair, I stopped to apply a bit more sunscreen and arrange my towels, one long under my body. One long under my body. and one rolled to support my head and settled down in the shade. What a feeling, that pleasant fatigue from the heat,

the coolness of the droplets still on my skin, the scent of my sunscreen, and the sound of the water, lapping at the pool's edge, I set my book at my side, let my damp palm rest on the cover and closed my eyes. I knew I was about to fall asleep. I could feel it coming like a ball rolling downhill,

picking up momentum about to carry me off. I had a fleeting thought of going to the snack bar when I woke up, sliding open the door on their big ice cream cooler and leaning in to find a red twin popsicle. Later, right now, I would just drift away. Sweet dreams.