0:01

Welcome to Bedtime

0:03

Stories for grown ups,

0:07

in which nothing much

0:09

happens, you feel

0:11

good, and then you

0:13

fall asleep. I'm

0:17

Catherine Nikolay. I write

0:19

and read all the stories you hear.

0:22

A Nothing Much Happens

0:25

audio engineering is by Bob

0:27

Wwittershine. If

0:29

you're looking for more cozy relaxation

0:33

in your life, my book, also

0:35

called Nothing Much Happens,

0:38

is available now wherever books

0:40

are sold. Let

0:43

me say something about how to use

0:45

this podcast. I'm

0:48

about to tell you a bedtime story.

0:52

It's a simple story, without much

0:54

action, but full of

0:56

relaxing detail. The

1:00

story is like a nest, and

1:03

we're enticing your fluttering

1:05

mind to settle down

1:07

into it. I'll

1:10

tell the story twice, and

1:12

I'll go a little bit slower the second

1:14

time through. If

1:17

you find yourself still awake at

1:20

the end of the first or second

1:22

telling, don't worry.

1:25

Relax. Take

1:28

your mind back to the beginning

1:30

of the story and

1:33

walk yourself back through the details

1:35

that you remember, especially

1:38

any bit that felt

1:41

particularly cozy. You're

1:44

training your brain and body to

1:47

wind down, and

1:49

the more often you do it, the

1:51

faster you will fall asleep. So

1:55

I have a bit of patience at the beginning.

1:59

Now, it's time

2:01

to turn off the light and

2:04

put away anything you've been working on or

2:06

looking at. Take

2:09

some time to snuggle yourself

2:12

down into your preferred sleeping

2:14

position. Make

2:18

all the adjustments you need to

2:20

to feel your body relaxing

2:23

into your bed. We're

2:26

creating a queue for your

2:28

body and brain, and

2:31

the signal is it's

2:33

time for sleep. Now,

2:38

let's take a deep breath in

2:41

through the nose and

2:46

then a soft sigh from the mouth. Do

2:52

that one more time, in and

2:58

out. Good.

3:06

Our story tonight is called Closing

3:09

up Shop, and

3:12

it's a story about a bookshop at

3:15

the end of the day. Love

3:18

Grossman wrote in The Magician's Land

3:21

it didn't matter where you were. If

3:25

you were in a room full of books,

3:28

you were at least halfway home. If

3:32

that feels true to you, then

3:35

this story is for you. Beyond

3:39

the friendliness of the company

3:41

of books, this

3:44

story is also about being

3:46

in a safe place and

3:49

looking out from it at one's

3:51

leisure and

3:54

lovely feeling of

3:56

anticipating something nice.

4:01

Closing up Shop, it

4:05

was just a few minutes till six, when

4:09

the shop was empty. I

4:13

was tidying up the shelves,

4:16

pushing the books into their neat rows,

4:20

and switching round the ones that had

4:22

gotten into the wrong spots.

4:27

I cleared up the counter, setting

4:30

a stack of book marks neatly

4:33

by the register, unlocked it.

4:38

Our little shop had been busy

4:41

today, but now

4:43

it was finally empty and

4:46

time to flip the open sign

4:48

to close. It was

4:51

a small shop on a

4:53

busy downtown street, in

4:57

an old building with wide

5:00

plank wood floors, tall

5:04

coved ceilings, and

5:07

old wrought iron chandeliers.

5:13

We had a long counter along

5:15

one wall that

5:18

had been there since the place was

5:20

a hardware store a few

5:22

generations back, and

5:26

a wall of windows looking

5:29

out to the street. We

5:33

had in our little place

5:37

a few cozy reading nooks

5:41

with stacks of pillows and

5:44

illustrations pinned to the walls.

5:50

You could even bring a cup of

5:52

coffee in if you promised

5:54

to be careful, and

5:57

we had several customers spent

6:00

their lunch hour quietly

6:03

sipping and turning

6:05

pages, and

6:08

sometimes taking surreptitious

6:10

bites out of sandwiches or

6:12

apples from their pockets. We

6:17

didn't mind. They

6:19

loved books. That

6:22

was good enough for us. One

6:27

of the knooks was set

6:29

into the front window of the shop.

6:33

A sort of booth with

6:36

a wood paneled top, so

6:40

you could hide of it but

6:42

still look out and watch

6:45

people on the street coming and

6:47

going. There

6:50

were maps in there that

6:53

could be pulled down from its

6:55

ceiling and stared at somewhere

7:00

of Africa and Europe

7:04

and cities in Japan. But

7:09

there was also a map of Middle Earth, an

7:13

hundred acre woods, and

7:16

one hand drawn attempt

7:19

at fillery. You

7:23

know you've picked up a good book if

7:26

there is a map in the front of it.

7:31

It was generally agreed upon by

7:34

staff and clientele that

7:38

this was the best seat in the house,

7:43

and although it was rarely

7:45

empty, folks

7:48

respected its specialness. I

7:51

didn't hover, waiting to claim

7:53

it. First.

7:58

I locked the back door, an

8:02

old, heavy wooden

8:04

door that

8:07

was as old as the building, with

8:10

panels and

8:13

a few panes of wavy glass. I

8:18

turned the lock and pulled

8:21

the shade down. I

8:25

turned off the lights through the back hall

8:28

and restrooms, pulled

8:31

the office door shut, and

8:34

went to the front door. It

8:38

was thick and heavy too, but

8:42

it had a screen door that

8:44

we used whenever it was warm

8:46

enough, so

8:49

that a bit of fresh air mixed

8:52

with the scent of the books. As

8:57

I closed them up and

9:01

slid the bolt. I

9:04

smiled up at the bell above. I

9:10

loved to hear it ring in the morning as

9:14

my first customers came in, but

9:19

I liked closing up at night, knowing

9:23

it wouldn't ring again for a bit. I

9:29

stood leaning

9:31

against the door for a while. This

9:35

was a nice time of day for people

9:37

watching, and

9:40

the spring sunlight was

9:43

making them blink a smile

9:46

on their way home from work and school.

9:51

The shop was quiet while I watched.

9:55

We didn't play music because

9:58

we thought of ourselves as

10:00

more of a library than a

10:03

meeting place with books,

10:07

so all I heard was the clock

10:10

ticking and

10:12

the muffled sounds from the street.

10:17

Admittedly, I was making

10:20

this moment last a bit. I

10:26

was making myself wait. My

10:29

loved selling books,

10:32

being surrounded with them, and talking

10:34

about them,

10:37

but I also loved being

10:39

alone and reading, and

10:43

at the end of the day, that's

10:45

what I did. So

10:49

I was enjoying the anticipation

10:55

as I walked back to the small, cluttered

10:57

office, which

11:00

had an electric kettle and

11:03

some mugs and

11:06

a couple of cookies that

11:08

a customer had brought me that day

11:12

after we had spent an hour picking

11:14

out a cookbook together the week

11:16

before. I

11:20

flicked the switch on the kettle

11:24

and pushed the boxes of tea around,

11:29

finally choosing a box of cinnamon

11:31

chie. The

11:34

office had a tiny fridge

11:37

in the corner, and I kept

11:39

some almond milk in there, which

11:43

everybody used liberally and

11:46

nobody replaced. But I

11:49

just bought more. I

11:53

stirred some sugar into the

11:55

milky tea and picked

11:57

up my packet of cookies and my book,

12:01

and went to the window seat. I

12:06

was about to begin the second

12:08

book of a series. I'd

12:11

loved the first book and

12:14

waited for over a year for

12:18

the volume that was now in my hand. You

12:23

can only read a great book for

12:26

the first time once, so

12:30

I was leaning into the anticipation.

12:36

I took my time settling in. I

12:40

had to find the right spot for

12:42

my tea and set the

12:45

pillows up at my back. I

12:49

pushed off my shoes and

12:52

stretched my legs out long

12:54

over the seat. I

12:57

sipped my tea and cut

13:00

the window for a while longer. I

13:05

set my cookies out beside me and

13:08

drew a slow, deep

13:10

breath in. I

13:16

sided out and

13:22

opened my book, closing

13:28

up shop. It

13:32

was just a few minutes till six,

13:35

and the shop was empty.

13:40

I was tidying up the shelves,

13:44

pushing the books into

13:47

their neat rows, and

13:51

switching round the ones that

13:54

had gotten into the wrong spots.

14:00

I cleared up the counter, setting

14:04

a stack of book marks

14:06

neatly by the register, and

14:09

locked it. Our

14:14

little shop had been busy

14:16

to day, but

14:20

now it was finally empty and

14:24

time to flip the open sign

14:26

to close. It

14:31

was a small shop on

14:34

a busy down town

14:36

street, in

14:39

an old building with wide

14:42

plank wood floors,

14:46

tall coved ceilings,

14:50

and old wrought iron chandeliers.

14:57

We had a long counter along

15:00

one wall that

15:03

had been there since the place

15:06

was a hardware store a

15:09

few generations back, and

15:14

a wall of windows looking

15:17

out to the street. We

15:21

had in our little

15:23

place a few

15:26

cozy reading nooks with

15:30

stacks of pillows and

15:33

illustrations pinned to

15:35

the walls. You

15:40

could even bring a cup of coffee in if

15:43

you promised to be careful,

15:48

and we had several customers who

15:52

spent their lunch hours quietly

15:55

sipping and

15:57

turning pages, and

16:00

sometimes taking

16:03

surreptitious bites out

16:05

of sandwiches or apples

16:08

from their pockets. We

16:12

didn't mind they

16:16

loved books. That

16:18

was good enough for us. One

16:24

of the nooks was

16:26

set into the front window

16:28

of the shop, a

16:31

sort of booth with

16:34

a wood paneled top, so

16:37

that you could hide a bit but

16:40

still look out and

16:43

watch people on the street coming

16:46

and going. There

16:51

were maps in there that

16:53

could be pulled down from

16:56

its ceiling and stared

16:59

at. Some

17:03

were of Africa and Europe,

17:07

and cities in Japan, but

17:12

there was also a map of Middle

17:14

Earth and

17:17

the hundred Acre Woods,

17:21

and one hand drawn attempt

17:24

at Phillery. You

17:29

know you've picked up a good book

17:32

if there is a map in

17:34

the front of it.

17:39

It was generally agreed upon by

17:42

staff and clientele

17:45

that this was the best

17:48

seat in the house, and

17:53

although it was rarely empty,

17:57

folks respected its specialness

18:01

and didn't hover waiting

18:03

to claim it. First.

18:09

I locked the back door, an

18:13

old, heavy wooden

18:15

door that was

18:17

as old as the building, with

18:20

panels and a

18:22

few panes of wavy glass.

18:29

I turned the lock and

18:32

pulled the shade down. I

18:37

turned off the lights through

18:39

the back hall and restrooms,

18:44

pulled the office door shut, and

18:48

went to the front door. It

18:53

was thick and heavy too, but

18:58

it had a screen door that

19:00

we used whenever

19:03

it was warm enough, so

19:07

that a bit of fresh air mixed

19:10

with the scent of the books.

19:16

As I closed them up and

19:19

slid the bolt, I

19:23

smiled up at the bell above. I

19:28

loved to hear it ring in the morning

19:33

as my first customers came in, but

19:37

I liked closing up at night, knowing

19:42

it wouldn't ring again for

19:44

a bit. I

19:49

stood leaning

19:52

against the door for a while. This

19:56

was a nice time of day for

19:58

people watching, and

20:02

the spring sun was

20:04

making them blink and

20:07

smile on their way home from work

20:09

and school. The

20:14

shop was quiet while I

20:16

watched. We

20:20

didn't play music because

20:23

we thought of ourselves. It's

20:26

more of a library than

20:29

a meeting place with books, so

20:34

all I heard was

20:36

the clock ticking and

20:39

the muffled sounds from the street. Admittedly,

20:46

I was making this moment

20:49

last a bit. I

20:53

was making myself

20:55

wait. I

21:00

loved selling books, being

21:04

surrounded with them, and

21:07

talking about them,

21:11

but I also loved being

21:13

alone and reading,

21:18

and at the end of the day, that's

21:21

what I did. So

21:26

I was enjoying the anticipation,

21:31

and I walked back to the small,

21:35

clattered office, which

21:38

had an electric kettle and

21:42

some mugs and

21:45

a couple of cookies that a customer

21:47

had brought me after

21:50

we had spent an hour picking

21:53

out a cookbook together the

21:55

week before. I

22:00

flicked the switch on the kettle and

22:04

pushed the boxes of tea around,

22:08

finally choosing a box

22:10

of cinnamon chi. The

22:15

office had a tiny fridge

22:18

in the corner, and

22:21

I kept some almond milk in there, which

22:26

everybody used liberally

22:30

and nobody replaced, but

22:34

I just bought more. I

22:39

stirred some sugar into

22:41

the milky tea

22:44

and picked up my packet of

22:46

cookies and my book

22:51

and went to the window seat. I

22:57

was about to begin the second

22:59

book of a series I

23:03

loved the first one and

23:07

waited for over a year for

23:10

the volume that was now

23:12

in my hand. You

23:17

can only read a great book

23:20

for the first time once,

23:25

so I was leaning into

23:27

the anticipation. I

23:32

took my time settling

23:35

in. I

23:37

had to find the right spot for my

23:39

tea and

23:42

set the pillows up at my back. I

23:48

pushed off my shoes and

23:52

stretched my legs out long

23:55

over the seat. I

23:59

sipped and

24:03

looked out the window for a

24:05

while longer. I

24:10

set my cookies out beside me and

24:14

drew a slow, deep

24:17

breath in, I

24:23

sided out and

24:28

opened my book, Sweet

24:32

Dreams.