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Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens.
You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
I'm Catherine Nicolai.
I write and read all the stories you'll hear on Nothing Much Happens.
Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim.
We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to the Canadian Children's Book Centre.
They work to help Canadian parents librarians, educators and caregivers foster a lifelong love of reading in children and teens.
Learn more about them in our show notes.
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Falling asleep to sound is completely natural.
Our ancient ancestors certainly would have heard other voices, crackling fires and sounds of the natural world around them.
All things considered, quiet at bedtime is kinda new.
And when the sounds, the voice, the content is all designed to make you feel good, to let your nervous system shift deeply into rest and digest response.
Well, my friend, you are doing this sleep hygiene thing really well.
I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second time through.
If you wake later in the night, just press play again.
Our story tonight is called Return to the Chalet, Part 2, and it's picking up where Part 1 ended, at a little cabin at the foot of a snow-covered slope.
It's also about waking up without an alarm, coffee by the fire, saunas and hot stones, soft hoodies and not having to decide anything, quiet exchanges and the achievement of letting yourself receive care without argument.
Now get as comfortable as you can.
There is nothing left to do or attend to.
You have done enough for the day.
Feel how good it is to close your eyes, to be in your bed, to be about to fall deeply asleep.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh from your mouth.
Again, breathe in and out. good.
Return to the Chalet.
Part 2.
It was day three, or maybe four.
I'd lost track and it didn't matter.
All I knew was that there was still plenty of time to enjoy the here in my cabin beside the mountain.
Or our cabin, rather, as I wasn't here alone.
My short-legged, long-bodied, black-and-white-spotted mishmash of a pooch was here with me.
Alphabet had his own bed. thoughtfully provided by the hotel beside the fire.
But at some point in the night, he'd crawled up into bed with me.
He'd scratched at the faux fur, throw at my feet until he'd fluffed it into a nest and huffed as he'd plopped down into it.
I remember waking for a moment and falling right back to sleep.
When I'd opened my eyes again, it was bright in the cabin and I'd peeked at the clock on the wall to see that I had indeed done something I hadn't been able to in ages.
I'd slept in.
I felt kind of proud of myself, supposing it was a sign that this getaway was working.
With each day, another layer of worn-out self was being refurbished.
And today would be particularly helpful in that pursuit.
The last time I'd been here, I hadn't ventured out much on the resort.
I'd needed the time alone more.
Time to read and sleep and be quiet.
But this year I wanted to get out more.
To do a bit.
Still not too much but a bit, and I'd noticed a brochure beside the coffee maker about spa services offered down at the hotel.
There were pictures of people in fluffy white robes lounging beside a fire or having a massage with hot stones resting on their backs.
It looked like they had a sauna and private hot tubs, cold plunge baths and a menu of teas and juices.
I'd spent a few minutes looking over all the options, honestly getting a little overwhelmed with the choices.
When I remembered, I had an expert I could lean on.
A good friend from my home village.
Chefs spent their summers cooking meals for guests at the inn there and their winters here at the hotel.
I sent them a message saying that I wanted to book some time at the spa today.
Didn't know what to choose or even how many services to sign up for.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
And when I read the message back, I smiled.
I just said, you're booked.
Show up at the spa at ten.
We'll send down lunch for you after.
Now that's a friend.
Just sorting it out for me, understanding what I'd like and taking the weight of decision-making off my shoulders.
It felt like a literal weight and I rolled them back a couple of times and tipped my head from side to side, feeling the muscles there stretch and release.
By the time my coffee cup was empty.
Alphabet had shaken himself awake and jumped up on the couch beside me with an earnest look in his eyes.
Ready for a little fresh air, buddy?
He pounced his front paws onto my leg, a definite yes in dog-speak.
We put on our coats and stepped out into the cold morning air.
I liked this part of our routine.
We'd wander down the wooden boardwalk to where we could see skiers on the hills.
I'd watch for squirrels in the trees.
He'd sniff and attend to business.
The view down to the hotel was beautiful.
All this sloping white edged here and there, with stands, of pines and cabins, the sunlight sparkling on the snow and the impressive lines of the hotel.
I could see a few guests out on the long patio at its back looking back up at us, probably planning out their day on the mountain.
After a half hour or so We both felt we'd had a solid dose of activity and sunshine and went back to the cabin.
We breakfasted English muffins with jam for me, kibble and chef's homemade dog biscuits for him.
Then Elfie returned to his dog bed beside the fire and I knew from experience he would be napping for the next several hours.
Time to head out for my own self-care.
The brochure suggested comfortable clothes, saying that guests were welcome to change into robes and slippers upon arrival.
I almost started overthinking.
Are these lounge pants and hoodie okay?
Then I sighed and remembered I didn't need to impress anyone.
Just be comfortable with myself.
So back in my coat and boots, I stepped out and quietly closed the door behind me.
I found an empty funicular car at the track and rode down to the hotel, blinking against the reflection of the sun on the snow.
When I checked in at the spa, I started to say that I didn't know what services I'd been booked for, and the receptionist smiled kindly, saying That's okay.
We know.
We'll take care of everything.
Follow me.
It's silly, maybe, to feel anxious about something like visiting a spa.
It's meant to be all about relaxation and serenity.
But in the past I'd found myself sometimes worrying if I should like ask the massage therapist about how their day was going, or that, when offered fancy fruit drinks, turned them down, not wanting to be any trouble.
I could see myself tipping into those patterns and instead determined to just allow myself to be tended to.
I accepted the spa water.
I wore the fluffiest robe and even asked for different size slippers when they didn't quite fit.
When I was stretched out on the massage table and the therapist started her work, she asked if I'd like this to be a quiet appointment.
And I sighed and said, yes, please.
There was eucalyptus oil, diffusing low lights and a very calm sort of music that I only noticed when one track ended and the next began.
After the massage I was led to a private hot tub space where I could go back and forth between a sauna and the tub and a cool water pool, and I did a few times.
At some point a bell rang in the room like a soft gong, and I'd been told that when I heard it it meant my lunch was set up in the lounge for me would be kept warm till I got there as I dressed in the room allotted for me, sliding back into my soft pants and sweater.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My face looked different.
Not just calmer.
I looked rested.
Deeply, maybe even radically, restored.
Well done, I whispered to myself, and went to find my lunch.
Return to the Chalet, Part 2 It was day three, or maybe four.
I'd lost track. and it didn't matter.
All I knew was that there was still plenty of time left to enjoy here in my cabin beside the mountain.
Or our cabin, rather, as I wasn't here alone.
My short-legged, long-bodied black and white spotted mishmash of a pooch was here with me alphabet had his own bed thoughtfully provided by the hotel beside the fire but at some point in the night he'd crawled up into bed with me.
He'd scratched at the faux fur, throw at my feet until he'd fluffed it into a nest and huffed as he plopped down into it.
I remembered waking for a moment and falling right back to sleep.
When I'd opened my eyes again, it was bright in the cabin, and I'd peeked at the clock on the wall.
To see that I had indeed done something I hadn't been able to in ages.
I'd slept in.
I felt kind of proud of myself.
Supposing it was a sign that this getaway was working.
With each day, another layer of worn-out self was being refurbished.
And today would be particularly helpful in that pursuit.
The last time I'd been here, I hadn't ventured out onto the resort much.
I'd needed the time alone more, time to read and sleep and be quiet.
But this year I wanted to see more.
Do a bit still not too much, but a bit and I'd noticed a brochure beside the coffee maker about spa services offered down at the hotel.
There were pictures of people in fluffy white robes lounging beside a fire or having a massage with hot stones resting on their backs.
It looked like they had a sauna and private hot tubs, cold plunge baths and a menu of teas and juices.
I'd spent a few minutes looking over all the options, honestly getting a little overwhelmed with the choices, when I remembered I had an expert I could lean on a good friend from my home village.
Chef spent their summers cooking meals for guests at the inn there and their winters here at the hotel.
I sent them a message saying that I wanted to book some time at the spa today.
I didn't know what to choose. or even how many services to sign up for.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed beside my coffee cup, and when I read the message back, I smiled.
It just said, You're booked.
Show up at the spa at ten. we'll send down lunch for you after.
Now that's a friend just sorting it out for me, understanding what I'd like and taking the weight of decision-making off my shoulders.
It felt like a literal weight had dropped and I rolled them back a couple of times and tipped my head side to side, feeling the muscles there stretch and release.
By the time my coffee cup was empty.
Alphabet had shaken himself awake and jumped up on the couch beside me with an earnest look in his eyes.
Ready for a little fresh air, buddy?
He pounced his front paws onto my leg, a definite yes in dog-speak.
We put on our coats and stepped out into the cold morning air.
I liked this part of our routine.
We'd wander down the wooden boardwalks to where we could see skiers on the hills.
I'd watch for squirrels in the trees. hate sniff, and attend to business.
The view down to the hotel was beautiful.
All this sloping white, edged here and there with stands of pines and cabins.
The sunlight sparkling on the snow. and the impressive lines of the hotel.
I could see a few guests out on the long patio at its back looking back up at us, probably planning out their day on the mountain.
After a half hour or so we both felt we'd had a solid dose of activity and sunshine and went back to the cabin.
We breakfasted.
English muffins with jam for me.
Kibble and chef's homemade dog biscuits for him.
Then Alphabet returned to his dog bed beside the fire and I knew from experience he would be napping for the next several hours.
Time to head out for my own self-care.
The brochure suggested comfortable clothes, saying that guests were welcome to change into robes and slippers upon arrival.
I almost started overthinking.
Are these lounge pants, this hoodie okay?
Then I sighed and remembered I didn't need to impress anyone, just be comfortable with myself.
So back in my coat and boots, I stepped out and quietly closed the cabin door behind me.
I found an empty funicular car at the track and rode down to the hotel, blinking against the reflection of the sun on the snow.
When I checked in at the spa, I started to say that I didn't know what services I'd been booked for, and the receptionist smiled kindly, saying That's okay.
We know.
We'll take care of everything.
Follow me.
It's silly, maybe, to feel anxious about something like visiting a spa.
It's meant to be all about relaxation and serenity.
But in the past, I'd found myself worrying if I should... like ask the massage therapist how their day was going, or that when I was offered fancy fruit drinks, I should turn them down not wanting to be any trouble.
I could see myself tipping into those patterns and instead determined to just allow myself to be tended to.
I accepted the spa water.
I wore the fluffiest robe and even asked for different-sized slippers when they didn't quite fit.
When I was stretched out on the massage table and the therapist started her work.
She asked if I'd like this to be a quiet appointment, and I sighed and said, yes, please.
There was eucalyptus oil, diffusing low lights and a very calm sort of music that I only noticed when one track ended and the next began.
After the massage I was led to a private hot tub space where I could go back and forth between a sauna and the tub and a cool water pool, and I did a few times.
At some point a bell rang in the room like a soft gong, and I'd been told that when I heard it it meant my lunch was set up ready in the lounge for me, that it would be kept warm till I got there.
As I dressed in the room allotted for me, sliding back into my soft pants and sweater, I looked at myself in the mirror.
My face looked different, not just calmer, I looked rested, deeply, maybe even radically restored.
Well done, I whispered to myself, and went to find my lunch.
Sweet dreams.
