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If you're hearing this, it means you've already made sleep a priority.
And that's something worth applauding.
You've carved out this quiet moment to wind down.
And I have something that fits beautifully into that routine.
It's called Moonbird.
It's a small screen-free device that gently expands and contracts in your hand, guiding your breath with a calming rhythm.
You don't have to count or focus, just hold it and breathe.
I got mine first, and I'm using it right now.
I use it whenever I record this podcast.
It helps me stay calm and centered as I read to you.
And after seeing how much it helped me, my wife wanted one for herself, and now she loves it too.
There's no screen to distract you, but if you like data, there's an optional app that tracks your heart rate and HRV.
A recent study found that people fell asleep 28 faster and had 37 better sleep quality using Moonbird daily.
If you're ready to take your bedtime ritual even further, you can get 15 off at moonbirdlife slash nothingmuchappens.
We'll have that in our show notes. moonbird.life slash nothingmuchappens.
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 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 good old Doctors Without Borders.
Doctors Without Borders brings medical care to people around the globe.
You can learn more about them in our show notes.
For more?
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Did you know, one of the best ways to ensure you won't fall asleep is by trying really hard to fall asleep.
I know, it's weird, but it's true.
We kind of need to sneak up on sleep, take a roundabout approach.
Just when it doesn't suspect we're coming for it, Bedtime stories are the perfect roundabout way.
So just listen along as I read.
I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through.
If you wake later in the night, don't hesitate to push play again and sneak right back to dreamland.
Our story tonight is called Autumn at the Inn, Part 3.
And you guessed it, it is a continuation of the last two episodes, though you don't need to go back and listen to those if you slept through them, which I hope you did.
This is a story about arriving somewhere you've never been, but where you feel instantly at home.
It's also about eucalyptus and chamomile a thick blanket at the foot of the bed, ducks on the lake, meeting a new friend and a meal shared in the moonlight.
Did you know that three out of four U.S. homes have toxic chemicals in their tap water?
And here's the scary part.
The water can look crystal clear and still be full of contaminants, things that can mess with your hormones, your energy, even your long-term health.
And the standard fridge and pitcher filters don't do much to stop it.
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And let me tell you, I've become a bit of an aqua true evangelist.
After I got mine, first my mom asked about it.
She got one, and then my friend did.
She got one as well.
It's that convincing once you taste the difference.
And when I accidentally ordered the wrong filters, absolutely my fault, user error.
Their customer service was unbelievably kind.
I sent one email, and within a half an hour, I had a tracking number for the correct filters.
AquaTrue has been featured in Business Insider Popular Science and was named Best Countertop Water Filter by Good Housekeeping.
And 98% of customers say their water is cleaner, safer, and healthier.
I'm with them.
So here's your chance.
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Aquatru even comes with a 30-day best-tasting water guarantee.
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Now please get as comfortable as you can.
Let your guard down.
Please.
Let your guard down.
The day is done, and you are exactly where you're supposed to be right now.
So soften.
All is well.
Draw a deep breath in through your nose and sigh from your mouth.
Again, breathe in and let it go.
Good.
The Jingle of the Cat's Collar woke me in the night.
I'd been deeply asleep, dreaming about train tracks, a bakery box full of cookies and a lake with a family of ducks tranquilly floating on its surface.
But the bell on that collar was persistent.
Or rather, the cat it was attached to was.
Sycamore and I had already become friends.
He'd greeted me as soon as I stepped into the inn with my suitcase in hand.
I'd been momentarily stunned by the grand curving staircase and the rich smell of varnished wood and eucalyptus.
I'd set my case down and stepped up to the foot of the stairs, leaning against the banister to crane my neck and look up through the railings.
I felt something soft slink around my ankle and, with a start, look down to find a black cat with bright green eyes sitting beside my foot, playfully swatting at my shoelace, which had come undone.
I stooped down to retie it and said hello to the cat.
I've learned to let animals show whether they welcome a pet or not since, as far as I am aware, They can't speak.
I watched his movements and when he dropped his eyes and butted his small head against my leg, I took that as an invitation and reached out to scratch his ears.
Just then we both heard a voice calling from somewhere far off.
Sycamore, come on.
We have a guest arriving any minute.
The cat's ears twitched, clearly listening.
And I whispered to him, Are you Sycamore?
He just stared into my eyes in that slightly unnerving way that cats sometimes do.
Footsteps were coming closer, down a long hallway from what must be the back of the inn.
And I pushed myself up to standing.
Oh, you're here, said the smiling woman who emerged from the hall.
Then, seeing Sycamore at my foot, said, And so were you.
I'm the one who was missing.
I liked her immediately and felt another layer of tension and burnout melt off my shoulders.
Within a few minutes, I'd been given a key and shown up to my room on the second floor.
I was invited to come down for some tea and a tour of the house and grounds when I was ready and I was let in on the quote-unquote sycamore situation.
The sycamore situation, I asked.
Yes, she said, with a small note of consternation in her voice that made me laugh just to hear it.
A sycamore, takes his role as hospitality specialist very seriously and may try to look in on you during the night.
You know, to make sure that you have everything you need and to see if something you need might be A cat.
I asked.
Exactly, she said.
We both looked down at Sycamore, who seemed to be following along with the conversation, just waiting for his turn to interject.
He had butted my ankle again, the innkeeper reached for a paper placard hanging from a ribbon on the back of my room's door.
There was a large black paw print inked onto one side of it.
On the other, a classic do-not-disturb message with one word added in large block letters at the top, so that it read Sycamore do not disturb.
Pawprint out means he's welcome.
Otherwise, flip the message to the hall, and he will most likely leave you alone.
I wasn't sure if she was serious.
She looked serious.
If this was a joke, she had a very reliable straight face.
He can read?
I asked.
Now, saddle in, and we'll see you later for some tea.
And they both trooped out and closed the door behind them.
I'd still been chuckling to myself as I wandered over to the window and looked out at a view that was truly breathtaking.
The inn sat on a small rise and from my room I could see the sloping lawns below and the path that led to the lake.
The lake was larger than I'd imagined.
I could see the other side, but had to squint to make out the houses and docks there.
Trees, so many trees, and they were turning all shades of yellow, orange, and red.
I took several deep breaths just standing there, letting the calm of the world I was looking at transfer into my body.
I'd meant to unpack my suitcase and immediately go down to check out the rest of the inn and the property.
But the exhaustion I'd been pushing to one side suddenly engulfed me.
I'd taken my finger out of the dam and there was no walling it back up.
I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the large soft bed.
There was a blanket folded at its foot.
One of those thick, incredibly soft and heavy throws.
And as soon as I pulled it up over me, I fell asleep.
It had been late afternoon when I'd arrived at the inn, hours of daylight still ahead.
But when I heard the bell on Sycamore's collar and finally pulled myself from the deep sleep I'd been in, it was pitch black outside.
I sat up in bed, still in my traveling clothes, the blanket wrapped around me, and blinked into the dark, trying to remember where I was.
Though confused for a moment, I felt safe.
I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be, even if the exact details had escaped me.
Then I heard the bell again and remembered.
Sycamore.
The sign still hung on the back of my door. where the innkeeper had left it.
He didn't know if I needed him, but by the steady ringing and the small black paw that was feeling around through the crack under my door, he had a pretty good idea.
I struggled to my feet, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, and went to let him in.
When I unlocked the door and opened it, I found him sitting on his haunches looking up at me, purring loudly.
Beside him in the hall was a cart with covered dishes and a note.
I looked up and down the empty hall and wondered how long it had sat out while I slept.
I reached for the note noticing the same dark green ink that had been on the business card that led me to this wondrous place.
It just said, thought you might be hungry.
Still groggy but feeling my stomach growl at the thought of food, I wheeled the cart into my room, ushered Sycamore in behind it and shut the door again.
I switched on a lamp and took a look at what had been set out for me.
Under the covers was a basket of seedy rolls and crackers and little sealed jars of spreads.
There were two shining apples with a small paring knife. and a dish of peanut butter.
Beside it was a porcelain cookie jar in the shape of an owl that was full of dark, brown molasses cookies.
There was also a thermos full of some kind of herbal tea, chamomile maybe, and a jug of water.
I rolled the cart over to the window seat and curled up on it in the moonlight.
I poured a cup of the tea, which was still hot and steaming, and began to cut the apple into slices.
When I shook out one of the cloth napkins, a little packet fell out and Sycamore jumped up beside me to sniff it.
Cat treats?
They think of everything here, I whispered, as I shook a few onto the sill.
We ate together in the silence of deep night.
Then I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and crawled right back into bed.
I wasn't nearly done catching up on my sleep.
Sycamore hopped up beside me, and as I rolled onto my side, he curled up against my chest and began to purr.
I tucked an arm around him, and we fell asleep.
The jingle of the cat's collar woke me in the night.
I'd been deeply asleep, dreaming about train tracks, a bakery box full of cookies and a lake with a family of ducks tranquilly floating on its surface.
But the bell on that collar was persistent.
Or, rather, the cat it was attached to was.
Sycamore and I had already become friends.
He'd greeted me as soon as I stepped into the inn with my suitcase in hand.
I'd been momentarily stunned by the grand curving staircase and the rich smell of varnished wood and eucalyptus.
I'd set my case down and stepped up to the foot of the stairs, leaning against the banister to crane my neck and look up through the railings.
I felt something soft slink around my ankle and, with a start, looked down to find a black cat with bright green eyes sitting beside my foot, playfully swatting at my shoelace, which had come undone.
I stooped down to retie it and said hello to the cat.
I've learned to let animals show whether they'd welcome a pat or not.
Since, as far as I am aware, they can't speak.
I watched his movements.
And when he dropped his eyes and butted his small head against my leg, I took that as an invitation and reached out to scratch his ears.
Just then, we both heard a voice calling from far off.
Sycamore, come on.
We have a guest arriving any minute.
The cat's ears twitched, clearly listening.
And I whispered to him, Are you Sycamore?
He just stared into my eyes in that slightly unnerving way that cats sometimes do.
Footsteps came closer down a long hallway from what must have been the back of the inn, and I pushed myself up to standing.
Oh, you're here, said the smiling woman. who emerged from the hall.
Ben, seeing Sycamore at my foot, said, and so are you.
I'm the one who was missing.
I liked her immediately and felt another layer of tension and burn out, melt off my shoulders.
Within a few minutes, I'd been given a key and shown up to my room on the second floor.
I was invited to come down for some tea and a tour of the house and grounds when I was ready.
And I was let in on the quote-unquote sycamore situation.
The sycamore situation, I asked.
Yes, she said, with a small note of consternation in her voice.
That made me laugh just to hear it.
Sycamore takes his role as hospitality specialist very seriously and may try to look in on you in the night.
You know, to make sure you have everything you need.
And to see if something you need might be a cat, I asked.
Exactly she said.
We both looked down at Sycamore, who seemed to be following along with the conversation, just waiting for his turn to interject.
He had butted my ankle again, The innkeeper reached for a paper placard hanging from a ribbon on the back of my room's door.
There was a large black paw print inked onto one side of it.
And on the other, a classic Do Not Disturb.
Message with one word added in large block letters at the top, so that it read Sycamore Do Not Disturb.
Paw printout means he's welcome.
Otherwise, flip the message to the hall, and he will most likely leave you alone.
I wasn't sure if she was serious.
She looked serious.
If this was a joke, she had a very reliable, straight face.
He can read?
I asked.
Now, settle in, and we'll see you later for some tea.
And they both trooped out and closed the door behind them.
I'd still been chuckling to myself as I wandered over to the window and looked out at a view that was truly breathtaking.
The inn sat on a small rise and from my room I could see the sloping lawns below and the path that led to the lake.
The lake was larger than I'd imagined.
I could see the other side, but had to squint to make out the houses and docks there.
Trees.
So many trees. and they were turning all shades of yellow, orange, and red.
I took several deep breaths just standing there, letting the calm of the world I was looking at transfer into my body.
I'd meant to unpack my suitcase and immediately go down to check out the rest of the inn and the property.
But the exhaustion I'd been pushing to one side suddenly engulfed me.
I'd taken my finger out of the dam and there was no walling it back up.
I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the large, soft bed.
There was a blanket folded at its foot.
One of those thick, incredibly soft and heavy throws.
And as soon as I pulled it up over me, I fell asleep.
It had been late afternoon, when I'd arrived at the inn.
Hours of daylight still ahead.
But when I heard the bell on Sycamore's collar and finally pulled myself from the deep sleep I'd been in, It was pitch black outside.
I sat up in the bed, still in my traveling clothes.
The blanket wrapped around me and blinked into the dark, trying to remember where I was.
Though confused for a moment, I felt safe.
I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be, even if the details had escaped me.
Then I heard the bell again and remembered.
Sycamore.
The sign still hung on the back of my door where the innkeeper had left it.
He didn't know if I needed him.
But by the steady ringing and the small black paw that was feeling around through the crack under my door.
He had a pretty good idea.
I struggled to my feet, pulling the blanket around my shoulders and went to let him in.
When I unlocked the door and opened it, I found him sitting on his haunches looking up at me, purring loudly.
Beside him in the hall, was a cart with covered dishes and a note.
I looked up and down the empty hall and wondered how long it had sat there while I slept.
I reached for the note noticing the same dark green ink that had been on the business card that led me to this wondrous place.
It just said, thought you might be hungry.
Still groggy, but feeling my stomach growl at the idea of food.
I wheeled the cart into my room, ushered Sycamore in behind it, and shut the door again.
I switched on a lamp and took a look at what had been set out for me.
Under the covers was a basket of seedy rolls and crackers and little sealed jars of spreads.
There were two shining apples with a small paring knife. and a dish of peanut butter.
Beside it was a porcelain cookie jar in the shape of an owl full of dark brown molasses cookies.
There was also a thermos of some kind of herbal tea chamomile maybe, and a jug of water.
I rolled the cart over to the window seat and curled up on it in the moonlight.
I poured a cup of tea, which was still hot and steaming, and began to cut the apple into slices.
When I shook out one of the cloth napkins, a little packet fell out and Sycamore jumped up beside me to sniff it.
Cat treats?
They think of everything here, I whispered. as I shook a few onto the sill.
We ate together in the silence of deep night.
Then I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and crawled right back into bed.
I wasn't nearly done catching up on my sleep.
Sycamore hopped up beside me, and as I rolled onto my side, he curled up against my chest and began to purr.
I tucked an arm around him And we fell asleep Sweet dreams
