0:01

Welcome to bedtime

0:03

stories for everyone,

0:07

in which nothing much

0:09

happens, you feel

0:11

good, and then you

0:14

fall asleep. I'm

0:17

Catherine Nikolay. I

0:19

write and read all the

0:21

stories you hear on Nothing

0:24

Much Happens Audio

0:27

Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.

0:31

If you need more nothing

0:33

much in your life,

0:36

my book, also called Nothing

0:38

Much Happens, is

0:40

available from your favorite bookseller.

0:45

Is full of beautiful color illustrations,

0:49

old favorites and never

0:51

before heard stories, recipes,

0:55

a map of the village, and

0:58

a cozy index so you

1:01

can search for stories by your

1:03

favorite feel good topic. It's

1:07

been translated into many languages

1:10

and is for sale all over the world.

1:14

If you're in the States, you can get an

1:16

autographed copy, or if

1:18

you're not, an autographed book

1:21

plate from Nothing Much Happens

1:23

dot com.

1:26

Now, just by

1:28

following along with my voice

1:32

and the gentle turns

1:34

of the story I'm about to tell

1:36

you,

1:38

you will be training your brain to

1:42

have a reliable response,

1:46

that is, to relax, focus

1:50

and tip into slumber. Well,

1:54

that response gets stronger with

1:57

practice, so have

1:59

a bit of patience. If you're new to

2:01

this. I'll

2:04

tell the story twice and

2:07

I'll go a little slower the second

2:09

time through. If

2:12

you wake in the middle of the night, think

2:15

back through any part

2:17

of the story you can remember. Often

2:22

that will put you right back to sleep.

2:27

And if it doesn't, please don't

2:29

hesitate to just turn the story right

2:31

back on. The

2:34

longer you wait to

2:37

get back on track, well,

2:39

you're missing sleep, but you're also

2:42

giving the gears

2:44

a chance to turn and build momentum.

2:48

Now, switch off your light,

2:53

set down your device. It's

2:56

time make

2:59

your body as comfortable as

3:01

you can. If

3:04

there are leftovers

3:07

from your to do list today,

3:11

recognize they weren't

3:14

in the end meant for today,

3:18

and that's okay.

3:21

Feel your limbs going heavy,

3:25

your eyes softly

3:27

closing. Breathe

3:30

in through your nose, and

3:35

sigh from the mouth again,

3:41

in and

3:45

out. Good.

3:53

Our story tonight is

3:55

called Sunday Reset, and

3:59

it's the story about a day set

4:02

aside to plan for

4:04

a good week ahead. It's

4:08

also about sheets hung

4:10

out on the line, drying

4:13

in the last warm rays

4:15

of autumn, a

4:18

record spinning on the turntable,

4:22

and a changed outlook after

4:25

advice from a friend. Sunday

4:30

Reset, it

4:34

changed how I thought about

4:36

it. When I changed

4:39

what I called it

4:42

funny how that works sometimes, how

4:47

words can reframe

4:50

things, change

4:52

a perspective. I

4:56

used to try to use my Sunday's

5:00

to clean. Sundays

5:04

were for chores, and

5:07

just thinking about that

5:10

made me resent it a bit. I

5:15

knew the dishes needed to be done

5:19

and fresh sheets needed

5:21

to be put on the bed, but

5:26

I begrudged giving a day

5:28

of the week to it. Then

5:34

I took some advice from a friend

5:36

of mine. She

5:39

talked about resetting

5:42

her space at

5:44

the end of the week to

5:47

make the next week easier, more

5:50

enjoyable, and

5:54

I could get behind that. So

5:59

I started to reset.

6:04

To think of it not

6:06

as what needed to be cleaned

6:08

up from last week, but

6:12

what would be a gift to

6:15

future me, And

6:18

not just along the lines of food

6:21

in my fridge or

6:23

clear counters, but

6:27

what would help me focus

6:30

and feel rested and

6:32

taken care of. It

6:36

turned the day into something I

6:39

looked forward to, I

6:41

took my time with, and

6:46

today was a reset day.

6:51

The fall was turning into winter,

6:55

but as sometimes happens when

6:57

the seasons change, Mother

7:01

Nature was treating us. Sometimes

7:04

had felt like she was teasing us by

7:08

rewinding into

7:11

weather from a few months before. So

7:16

as the sun rose. I

7:19

stepped out onto my balcony

7:21

and my slippers, with

7:25

a blanket pulled around me and

7:28

a hot cup in my hand, and

7:33

felt quite comfortable in

7:35

the nearly warm morning

7:38

air. I

7:41

let the sun shine on my face

7:45

and closed my eyes and

7:50

imagined my battery charge

7:52

percentage climbing point

7:55

by point from

7:57

the warmth and the brightness

8:03

on the street below. I

8:06

could hear people walking, dogs

8:09

barking. The

8:12

coffee shop at the end of the block

8:16

must be roasting beans this morning.

8:21

I could smell the dark chocolate

8:24

e scent in the air. When

8:29

my cup was empty,

8:31

I stepped back inside and

8:35

set it in the sink. Before

8:40

I did anything else, I

8:42

wanted to wash my face and

8:45

get dressed. As

8:49

long as I was in my pajamas,

8:52

I was like a car and neutral. But

8:57

once I was dressed, teeth

9:00

brushed, and face seen to, I

9:03

was in gear moving

9:05

forward. I

9:09

stripped my bed and

9:11

started a load of laundry, opening

9:16

a few windows along the way

9:19

to let in some fresh air. Then

9:23

I went from room to

9:26

room resetting. It

9:30

didn't take long hanging

9:33

up the sweaters and jackets

9:36

that had landed outside

9:39

of the closet over the week. Sorting

9:44

through magazines and mail,

9:49

untidying my dresser and coffee

9:51

table. We

9:55

swept the floors and

9:57

wiped down the kitchen counters. I

10:03

realized I was working

10:05

in silence and

10:08

wanted a bit of music to keep

10:10

me company. I'd

10:14

bought myself a fancy,

10:17

vintage style record player for

10:20

my birthday a

10:22

few months before, and

10:25

was slowly growing my vinyl

10:27

collection. I

10:30

liked to play records while I reset.

10:35

That way, every

10:37

half hour or so, i'd

10:40

need to flip the record or

10:42

choose a new one, and

10:45

it kept me on my feet and

10:47

interested. I

10:51

picked out an album that

10:54

had first come out when I was

10:56

a freshman in high school. It

11:00

was Wistful, an angsty,

11:04

a voice that had felt like a

11:07

revolution at the time. I

11:10

still knew all the words. I

11:15

took the record from the sleeve, propping

11:18

the sleeve on my now listening

11:21

to shelf, and

11:24

lowered the record carefully

11:26

on to the turn table. It

11:30

was an automatic player, so I

11:34

just lowered the lid and

11:37

turned the dial, and

11:40

the arm lifted and

11:42

positioned itself over the

11:44

spinning disk until

11:47

the needle found its groove. I

11:52

smiled at the first few bars,

11:57

thinking about my younger self, listening

12:01

in my dark bedroom before falling

12:04

asleep, sure

12:07

that all the very

12:09

big things I was feeling had

12:13

never been felt quite like this

12:16

before. In

12:19

some ways, that had been

12:22

the reset I needed. Then, Year

12:27

by year, I've

12:29

gotten myself to the next day,

12:31

the next season, and

12:35

so I was grateful for

12:37

all those previous iterations

12:39

of me. I

12:43

guessed one day I'd looked back

12:45

on the me of now with

12:47

the same affection that I had for

12:50

my younger self. We

12:54

were doing our best, and

12:57

it was enough. I

13:01

heard the musical chime of

13:04

the washing machine completing

13:07

its cycle and

13:10

took my clothes rack out

13:13

onto the balcony. In

13:17

this warm sunlight, my

13:20

sheets would dry pretty quickly, and

13:25

the fresh air would seep into the fabric,

13:29

so that every time I turned over

13:31

in the night and

13:34

my nose found the pillow, I

13:38

would breathe it in. While I slept,

13:43

I might even dream of summer wind

13:46

and open spaces.

13:50

I took the damp linens out

13:53

in a big basket and

13:56

started to shake them out and

14:00

pinop beech piece. It

14:04

was something my grandmother had always

14:06

done when she was hanging

14:08

towels on the line. She'd

14:12

shake them out vigorously snapping

14:16

the fabric over the grass. She

14:20

said it made the towels fluffier,

14:25

And though these were sheets and pillowcases,

14:29

I still did the same thing. I

14:34

clamped my hands firmly

14:37

around the edges of my sheet

14:42

and draped it over the railing. As

14:44

I shook it, I

14:48

spotted my neighbor in

14:51

the apartment opposite watering

14:54

his plants on his balcony,

14:57

and we waved. The

15:01

street was getting busier as

15:04

folks took advantage of the weather. It

15:10

made me think about what

15:12

else would help set

15:14

me up for the week. A

15:17

walk in the park, a

15:20

new book from the bookshop. I

15:24

checked the fridge and pantry and

15:28

saw that I was still pretty

15:30

well stocked for lunches and

15:32

such. But

15:35

wouldn't it be nice to have a fresh

15:37

loaf of bread from the bakery for

15:40

sandwiches while

15:44

the sheets dried. I'd

15:46

head down onto the street and

15:50

pick up a few other things up.

15:54

Some salts and eucalyptus

15:56

oil for a bath, a

15:59

book of fall flowers for

16:02

the kitchen table, a

16:05

quart of soup from the deli for

16:07

dinner, and

16:10

maybe a new record to

16:12

listen to before bed. I

16:17

was taking care of me in

16:19

lots of little ways. Man,

16:23

it sure felt good Sunday

16:29

reset. It

16:34

changed how I thought about

16:36

it. When

16:39

I changed what I called

16:41

it.

16:44

Funny how that works. Sometimes her

16:49

words can reframe things,

16:53

change a perspective. I

16:58

used to try to use my Sundays

17:01

to clean. Sundays

17:06

were for chores, and

17:11

just thinking about that made

17:14

me resent it a bit. I

17:20

knew the dishes needed

17:22

to be done and

17:25

fresh sheets needed

17:27

to be put on the bed, but

17:31

I begrudged giving

17:33

a day of the week to it. Then

17:40

I took some advice from

17:42

a friend of mine. She

17:47

talked about resetting her

17:49

space at the end

17:51

of the week to make

17:53

the next week easier, more

17:56

enjoyable. I

17:59

could get behind that, so

18:06

I started to reset. To

18:10

think of it not as

18:13

what needed to be cleaned up from

18:15

last week, but

18:19

what would be a gift to future

18:21

me, And not

18:23

just along the lines of food

18:26

in my fridge and clear

18:29

counters, but

18:31

what would help me focus and

18:34

feel rested and taken

18:36

care of. It

18:41

turned the day into something I

18:43

looked forward to and

18:45

took my time with, And

18:51

today was a reset day.

18:55

The fall was turning into winter, but

19:00

as sometimes happens, when

19:02

the seasons change. Mother

19:07

Nature was treating us. Sometimes

19:10

it felt like she

19:12

was teasing us by

19:16

rewinding into weather from

19:18

a few months before. So

19:23

as the sun rose, I

19:26

stepped out onto my balcony

19:29

and my slippers, with

19:34

a blanket pulled around me and

19:38

a hot cop in my hand, and

19:41

felt quite comfortable in

19:44

the nearly warm

19:46

morning air. I

19:51

let the sun shine

19:54

on my face and

19:57

closed my eyes and

20:02

imagined my battery

20:04

charge percentage climbing

20:08

point by point from

20:11

the warmth and brightness

20:17

on the street below. I

20:20

could hear people walking, dogs

20:23

barking. The

20:27

coffee shop at the end of the block

20:30

must be roasting beans this morning.

20:35

I could smell the dark

20:37

chocolatey scent in the air. When

20:43

my cup was empty, I

20:46

stepped back inside and

20:49

set it in the sink. Before

20:54

I did anything else, I

20:57

wanted to wash my face and

21:00

get dressed. As

21:04

long as I was in my pajamas,

21:07

I was like a car in neutral.

21:12

But once I was dressed, teeth

21:15

brushed, and face seemed

21:18

to I

21:20

was in gear moving

21:23

forward. I

21:28

stripped my bed and

21:30

started a load of laundry, opening

21:35

a few windows along the way

21:38

to let in some fresh air. Then

21:44

I went from room to room

21:47

resetting. It

21:51

didn't take long hanging

21:54

up the sweaters and jackets

21:58

that had landed outside of the

22:00

closet over the week, sorting

22:06

through magazines and mail,

22:11

and tidying my dresser and coffee

22:13

table. I

22:17

swept the floors and

22:20

wiped down the kitchen counters.

22:25

I realized I was working in silence

22:29

and wanted a bit of music to

22:32

keep me company.

22:37

I'd bought myself a

22:39

fancy, vintage style record

22:42

player for my birthday

22:45

a few months before, and

22:50

was slowly growing my

22:52

vinyl collection. I

22:57

liked to play records while

23:00

I reset. That

23:04

way, every half

23:06

hour or so, i'd

23:09

need to flip the record or

23:13

choose a new one, and

23:17

it kept me on my feet and

23:21

interested. I

23:26

picked out an album that

23:28

had first come out when

23:31

I was a freshman in high school. It

23:36

was Wistful, an angsty,

23:40

a voice that had felt like

23:43

a revolution at the time. I

23:49

still knew all the words.

23:55

I took the record from the sleeve, propping

24:00

the sleeve on my now

24:02

listening to shelf, and

24:06

lowered the record carefully

24:09

onto the turntable. It

24:15

was an automatic player, so

24:19

I just lowered the lid and

24:23

turned the dial, and

24:26

the arm lifted and

24:29

positioned itself over

24:31

the spinning disk until

24:34

the needle found its groove. I

24:40

smiled at the first

24:43

few bars, thinking

24:47

about my younger self listening

24:51

in my dark bedroom before

24:54

falling asleep, sure

24:58

that all the very

25:01

big things I was feeling had

25:06

never been felt quite

25:08

like this before. In

25:13

some ways, that

25:16

had been the reset I needed. Then.

25:21

Year by year, I'd

25:24

gotten myself to the next day,

25:28

the next season, and

25:32

so I was grateful for

25:35

all those previous

25:37

iterations of me my

25:43

guest. One day I'd

25:47

look back on the me of now with

25:51

the same affection that

25:53

I had for my younger self. We

25:59

were doing our best, but

26:02

it was enough. I

26:08

heard the musical chime of

26:10

the washing machine completing

26:13

its cycle. I

26:17

took my clothes rack out

26:19

onto the balcony,

26:25

and this warm sunlight,

26:28

my sheets would dry pretty

26:30

quickly, and

26:33

fresh air would seep into

26:36

the fabric, so

26:38

that every time I

26:40

turned over in the night and

26:44

my nose found the pillow,

26:49

I would breathe it in. While

26:52

I slept, I

26:56

might even dream of summer

26:58

wind and open

27:01

spaces. I

27:06

took the damp linens

27:08

out in a big basket

27:15

and started to shake out and

27:18

pin up each piece. It

27:24

was something my grandmother had

27:27

always done when

27:29

she hung towels on the line. She'd

27:35

shake them out vigorously,

27:39

snapping the fabric over the

27:41

grass.

27:46

She said it made the towels

27:48

fluffier, And

27:51

though these were sheets and

27:54

pillowcases, I

27:56

still did the same thing. I

28:00

clamped my hands firmly

28:03

around the edges of my sheet and

28:07

draped it over the railing. As

28:09

I shook it out, I

28:14

spotted my neighbor in

28:17

the apartment opposite watering

28:21

his plants on his balcony,

28:25

and we waved. The

28:29

street below was getting busier

28:33

as folks took advantage of the weather.

28:39

It made me think about what

28:42

else would help set

28:45

me up for the week. A

28:50

walk in the park, a

28:53

new book from the bookshop. I

28:59

checked to the fridge and pantry

29:04

and saw that I was still

29:06

pretty well stocked for lunches

29:08

and such. Wouldn't

29:12

it be nice to have a fresh

29:14

loaf of bread from the bakery

29:17

for sandwiches. While

29:22

the sheets dried, I'd

29:25

head down onto the street and

29:29

pick up a few other things.

29:33

Ep some salts and eucalyptus

29:35

oil for a bath, a

29:39

bouquet of fall flowers for

29:42

the kitchen, table, a

29:45

quart of soup from the deli for

29:48

dinner, and

29:51

maybe a new record to

29:54

listen to before bed I

30:00

was taking care of me and

30:03

lots of little ways, and

30:07

it sure felt good. Sweet

30:13

Dreams,