I care that you sleep.
It is always my first thought and priority in making this show.
And sometimes you need extra help.
Sometimes even when your sleep hygiene is top tier, sleep doesn't come.
Some nights you might struggle to fall asleep, or wake after a few hours and toss and turn.
I get it. When paramenopause hit me like a wrecking ball, it threw my sleep cycle so far off course that I felt like a different person.
And sleep breakthrough capsules from bioptimizers really helped.
I fell asleep when I wanted to, and slept through the night, without that 3am panic wake up that had been haunting me.
When I got up in the morning, I felt good.
I felt rested. My days were better.
BiOptimizers has optimized the dosages of each ingredient based on clinical research. And for folks looking for an option without melatonin, this is it.
So if you're ready to transform your sleep and wake up feeling refreshed.
Visit byoptimizers .com slash nothing much and use code nothing much for 10 % off any order.
Don't settle for another restless night.
Try sleep breakthrough risk -free with ByOptimizer's 365 -day money back guarantee.
Visit byoptimizers .com slash nothing much and use code NOTHINGMUCH for 10 % off any order.
Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone—in which nothing much happens.
You feel good, and then you fall asleep.
I'm Katherine Nicolai.
I write and read all the stories you hear on Nothing Much Happens.
Audio engineering is by Bob Widersheim.
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 breaths, and sweet dreams. Now, let me explain how to use this podcast. When left to its own devices, your mind will wander endlessly, rehashing and what -iffing, into the wee hours.
We need to give it a soft place to land – that's what the story is.
and once the mind settles, your nervous system can switch over into rest and digest mode and you'll sleep.
All you need to do is follow along with the sound of my voice and the simple shape of the story.
I'll read the story twice and I'll go a little slower the second time through If you find yourself awake in the middle of the night, you could listen again, or just think your way back through any part of the story that you can remember.
Especially any detail that felt particularly cozy to you.
It will reroute your mind back to the landing spot.
And before you know it, you'll be waking up tomorrow, feeling refreshed and rested.
Our story this week is called The Hardware Store, and it's a story about finding all the right things for a few projects at home.
It's also about stacks of fresh saw and wood, a packet of peanut butter cups, and ride home with the window down.
I was a full -time yoga teacher for over 20 years, and I know the power of intentional breathing.
It's why our two deep breaths have been part of our bedtime routine since episode one, and that's why I want to introduce you to Moonbird. Moonbird is a handheld breathing device designed to comfortably fit in the palm of your hand.
When you shake it, it will start inflating and deflating, so in your hand it will feel like you're holding a little bird that is breathing in and out.
Mmm. The only thing you need to do is breathe along with it.
When moon bird inflates, you breathe in.
When moon bird deflates, you breathe out.
Simple, intuitive, and takes all the effort and thinking out of your breathing exercises.
It's the perfect companion to your bedtime ritual.
Or use it when you're meditating, when you're stuck in traffic.
Anytime you need an assist in feeling calm and focused.
Listen, I know how to breathe to feel better but still I use Moonbird because when my mind is racing or wandering, I need a little guidance and it makes my deep breathing more effective.
So when you wake in the middle of the night, don't reach for your phone unless it's to restart your bedtime story, that's fine.
reach for Moonbird. Visit moonbird .life slash nothing much happens to save 20 percent.
We've got it linked in our show notes.
It's time to turn off the light.
Set aside anything you've been working on or looking at.
Snuggle down into your sheets and get as comfortable as you can.
You are about to fall asleep and you'll sleep deeply all night.
Take a slow breath in through your nose and sigh it out of your mouth.
Again, breathe in and out.
Good. good The hardware store The gate into the back garden was squeaking on its hinges I'd noticed it today when I pushed through it with my dogs at my heels on our way to the vegetable patch I stopped for a moment working the gate back and forth on its hinges to see if a little bit of movement would clear the stickiness out.
After all, that usually works for me.
The gate was a lovely, smooth piece of walnut.
I'd planed it myself and hung it with wrought -iron fittings that latched smoothly into place.
The squeak persisted.
It would need a bit of oil, and today seemed a good day to tend to it.
I had a little list of projects, and I added the gate to it.
There was the slow drip from the kitchen faucet, the slightly crooked shelf in the closet that just needed a shim to even it out.
and the split in the leg of one of the kitchen chairs that could be set right with a bit of wood glue.
I scratched out a list of needful things with paper and pencil, and grabbed my car keys from the counter.
I was headed to the hardware store.
Hardware stores are long places, with shelves reaching back for miles.
And that unmistakable smell, that somehow manages to be on the clean side of Dusty.
All hardware stores have it.
They are almost always dark and cool, even on the hottest days, and for those who like to build and mend and take things apart just to put them back together they are as much place to meet and discuss, as they are to shop and to buy.
In fact, there was a small group of people standing in a loose circle at the front door, sipping coffee from paper cups and talking about which tools were the best for a particular I smiled as I walked past them, eavesdropping on their strong opinions.
It reminded me of folks who live in big cities, who like to debate the best way to get from one side of town to another.
Which subway or bus or secret one -way street to turn down.
We each of us like to be the masters of some particular thing or other.
It keeps us learning.
I took my list from my pocket and ran my finger down the items. I needed oil for the gate, glue and shims, and a few odds and ends.
I wandered up and down the aisles.
I liked looking at the boxes and boxes of screws and bolts and fittings lined up neatly, each one made precisely to be just the same as its fellow's and just one size up or down from its neighbors on either side.
I passed some time picking through some woodworking tools, working out for myself how they were used, and deciding if I should add them to my collection.
In the back of the store were tall stacks of freshly cut wood that had its own lovely warm smell.
There were shavings and sawdust on the floor, and it made me eager to make something in my workshop at home.
I pushed through the swinging doors that led out to the garden center.
The air was suddenly warm and a little thick, smelling sweetly of flowers and soil and mulch. There were more long rows to stroll through.
These were made of stacks of cinder blocks and plywood.
Every inch covered in flats of perennials and annuals and pots of herbs.
There was a huge, healthy, split -leaf philodendron, who had just unfurled a brand -new, waxy, pale green leaf into the world.
I stopped to touch the new leaf, to marvel at the veins and the softness.
When it comes down to it, actually hugging a tree is usually a scratchy, unpleasant experience.
But reaching out to touch a leaf, or petal, or to lay an open hand on bark or fruit—it feels very much like saying hello.
There were tall fiddle figs and spiky arborvitae and a sea of purple flocks.
Have you ever noticed how lovely plant names are?
Rhododendron and Forsythia, Wisteria and Creeping Clematis, Primrose and Aster and Coleus and Common Perslane.
My arms were filling up, and soon I turned back into the shop and headed to the counter.
with everything I needed, and a few things that I didn't, but was getting anyway.
The man behind the register had owned this store as far back as I could remember, and he'd often helped me work out a plan for whatever project I had in mind.
He laid everything from my basket out on the counter, and had a good look at it all before he began to ring it up.
You've got something loose, something squeaky, and something crooked, am I right?
We always played this game, don't we all?
I said with a laugh.
Right enough, he agreed.
As he packed my purchases into deep paper sacks, I squatted down to look at the shelves of candy bars and packets of gum and mints.
Hardware stores always have lots and lots of candy to fortify you after all your hard work with something sweet.
I added a pack of peanut butter cups to the counter, and paid for it all, and carried my sacks out to the car.
On the drive home, I rolled the windows down and let the fresh summer air in.
I ate my peanut butter cups and sang along to the music and thought about my list of projects and where to start.
I'd fix that slanting shelf, then move into the kitchen to tighten the faucet and glue the chair leg.
I'd oil the hinges on my gate and lay out my new tools in the workshop.
I could take the dogs to search through the trails at the park for a good -sized piece A thick branch, lately fallen from a tree, that I could put on my lathe, to turn and turn and turn into something.
That was the promise of making and fixing on hardware stores.
From the waxy new leaves to the freshly sawn planks of wood, and the nails to hold them together.
It was the best parts of discovery, and purpose, and usefulness.
The Hardware Store.
The gate, into the back garden, was squeaking on its hinges.
I'd noticed it today.
When I pushed through it with my dogs at my heels on our way to the vegetable patch, I stopped for a moment, working the gate back and forth on the hinges to see if a little bit of movement would clear the stickiness out.
After all, that usually works for me.
The gate was a lovely smooth piece of walnut.
I'd planed it myself, and hung it with wrought iron fittings that latched smoothly into place.
The squeak persisted.
It would need a bit of oil, and today seemed a good day to tend to it.
I had a little list of projects, and I added the gate to it.
There was the slow drip from the kitchen faucet, the slightly crooked shelf in the closet that just needed a shim to even it out, and the split in the leg of one of the kitchen chairs that could be set right with a bit of wood glue.
I scratched out a list of needful things with paper and pencil and grabbed my car keys from the counter.
I was headed to the hardware store.
Hardware stores are long places.
with shelves reaching back for miles.
And that unmistakable smell that somehow manages to be on the clean side of Dusty.
All hardware stores have it.
They are almost always dark and cool, And for those who like to build and mend and take things apart just to put them back together, they are as much a place to meet and discuss as they are to shop and to buy.
In fact, there was a small group of people standing in a loose circle at the front door, sipping coffee from paper cups and talking about which tools were the best for a particular job.
I smiled as I walked past them, eavesdropping on their strong opinions.
It reminded me of folks who live in big cities, who like to debate on the best way to get from one side of town to another.
Which subway or bus or secret one -way street to turn down?
We, each of us, likes to be the master of some particular thing or other.
It keeps us learning.
I took my list from my pocket.
and ran my finger down the items. I needed oil for the gate, glue and shims, and a few odds and ends.
I wandered up and down the aisles.
I liked looking at the boxes and boxes of screws and bolts.
and fittings, lined up neatly, each one made precisely to be just the same as its fellows, and just one size up or down from its neighbors on either side.
I passed some time picking through some woodworking tools, working out for myself how they were used and deciding if I should add them to my collection.
In the back of the store were tall stacks of freshly cut wood that had its own lovely warm smell.
There were shavings and sawdust on the floor, and it made me eager to make something in my workshop at home.
I pushed through the swinging doors that led out to the garden center.
The air was suddenly warm and a little thick, smelling sweetly of flowers and soil and mulch. There were long rows to stroll through.
These were made of stacks of cinder blocks and plywood.
Every inch covered in flats of perennials and annuals and pots of herbs.
There was a huge split -leaf Philodendron who had just unfurled a brand new, waxy pale green leaf into the world.
I stopped to touch the new leaf.
To marvel at the veins and the softness.
When it comes down to it, Actually, hugging a tree is usually a scratchy, unpleasant experience, but reaching out to touch a leaf or petal or to lay an open hand on bark or fruit, it feels very much like saying hello.
There were tall fiddle -figs, and spiky arborvites, and a sea of purple flocks.
Have you ever noticed how lovely plant names are?
Rhododendron and Forsythia, Wisteria and creeping clematis.
Primrose and aster and coleus and common purslane.
My arms were filling up, and soon I turned back into the shop and headed to the counter with everything I needed and a few things that I didn't but was getting anyway.
The man behind the register had owned this store as far back as I could remember, and he'd often helped me work out a plan for whatever project I had in He laid everything from my basket out onto the counter, and had a good look at it all before he began to ring it up.
You've got something loose, something squeaky, and something crooked, am I right?
We always played this game.
Don't we all, I said with a laugh.
Right enough, he agreed.
As he packed my purchases into deep paper sacks, I squatted down to look at the shelves of candy bars, and the packets of gum and mints.
Hardware stores always have lots and lots of candy to fortify you after all your hard work with something sweet.
I added a pack of peanut butter cups to the counter and paid for it all, and carried my sacks out to the car.
On the drive home, I rolled the windows down and let the fresh summer air in.
I ate my peanut butter cups and sang along to the music and thought about my list of projects and where to start.
I'd fix that slanting shelf, then move into the kitchen to tighten the faucet, and glue the chair leg.
I'd oil the hinges on my gate and lay out my new tools in the workshop.
I could take the dogs to search through the trails at the park for a good -sized piece of wood, a thick branch lately fallen from a tree that I could put on my lathe to turn and turn and turn into something.
That was the promise of making and fixing and hardware stores.
From the waxy new leaves, to the freshly sawn planks of wood, and the nails to hold them together, it was the best parts of discovery, and purpose, and usefulness.
Sweet dreams.
