🥣 🫖 Breakfast in Bed - The Slow Life Stories - Bedtime Stories for Adults - Calming Stories for Grownups and All Ages

Welcome to The Slow Life - A village filled with cozy stories for everyone. This story is called Breakfast in Bed, and it’s about taking up all of the space, being able to wait, and a luxury taken once in a while.

🇨🇦 These stories are written, edited and narrated by Jennifer Zwicker.

~~~~

Benefits of listening to cozy stories or adult bedtime stories with The Slow Life:

1. Relaxation and Stress Relief

• You want to unwind after a stressful day.

• The gentle pacing, soothing tone, and comforting narratives help calm your mind and body.

2. Help Falling Asleep

• Many people use bedtime stories as a sleep aid. We’ve been told ours help.

• A calming story distracts from anxious or racing thoughts, making it easier to drift off. Especially with a second reading as we have, because you already know what happens.

3. Comfort and Nostalgia

• You’re looking for the emotional safety and warmth that often comes with familiar or gently imaginative stories.

• Cozy stories can evoke fond childhood memories or a sense of being cared for.

4. Escape and Imagination

• A peaceful story can provide a gentle escape from reality without overstimulation.

• Listeners enjoy being transported to a calm village, a peaceful garden, or a quaint and cozy inn.

5. Mindfulness and Presence

• The slow, descriptive nature of cozy storytelling encourages a mindful focus on the present.

• It can be a form of meditative listening, grounding you, the listener, in sensory details and slow pacing.

6. Companionship and Connection

• Perhaps, for people who live alone or feel lonely, a narrator’s voice can feel like friendly company.

• It’s a quiet, non-demanding form of social presence.

🧡 Bedtime stories for grown ups

🧡 Bedtime stories for kids

🧡 Meditation story

Breakfast in Bed is a story about treating yourself to a luxury on a rainy day. There is beauty, there is comfort. It may help put you to sleep. Calming stories to help you sleep. Relieve anxiety.

⚠️ Take care listening while driving or doing any activity that requires your full attention.

• All stories - Copyright Jennifer Zwicker 2024, 2025

Episode Transcript

(00:02):
Welcome to The Slow Life, a village filled with cozy stories
for everyone. I'll read this story 2 times to
help you zone out or even fall asleep during the second
reading. This story is called Breakfast

(00:23):
in Bed, and it's about taking upall of the space, being able to
wait, and a luxury taken once ina while.
I roll over onto my back, scooting myself onto the hill

(00:43):
that has formed in the middle ofthe bed.
It's firm and feels good on my back, this sheet.
Sarah bit rumpled around my limbs, so I puff the top sheet
and the fluffy duvet up, lettingthem float down, settling over

(01:04):
me as smooth as can be. Reaching my hands and feet to
the four corners of the mattress, starfishing as wide as
I can, I sink into the stretch. The rain taps at the window
across the room telling me it's OK to stay like this for a

(01:28):
while. Letting me know there's no rush
to get anywhere or get anything done quite yet, or even at all
to day if I choose. Noticing my movement from
somewhere in the house, my 2 cats hop up and find spots to

(01:49):
settle in around me. Well, if you insist that I stay
a bit longer. I sigh towards the ceiling.
The thought comes to me of having breakfast in bed.
I only do this every few months and it always feels like

(02:10):
something indulgent to day. Feels like the perfect day for
it. Carefully, I ease myself out of
bed so as not to disturb the cats too much.
The one by my knees barely stirs, the other lifts its head,

(02:30):
then sinks back into sleep. I tiptoe into my slippers,
swooped my house coat around me,and head downstairs to the
kitchen. Moving slowly and quietly, I
click the kettle on to boil and take out a small teapot.

(02:52):
Its roll is usually a decorationon the top shelf of the buffet
and hutch by the pantry, so I give it a quick rinse, ice,
scoop loose tea into the ball and rest it in the teapot.
One that's floral and dark, thatopens slowly with the heat on

(03:15):
the counter. The fresh sourdough weights from
yesterday's farmers market. I sliced 2 pieces and lower them
into the toaster. I dig out the lap tray that I
keep in the pantry, opening its legs to stand on the kitchen
island while I fill it with breakfast supplies.

(03:41):
The farmers market also providedthe granola that I moved into a
glass clamp jar, its lid sealed but popping open with ease.
It smells sweet with almonds, cinnamon and raisins as I pour
some into a bowl and put oat milk into a Creamer.

(04:04):
Beside it. I arrange fresh strawberries,
already washed and hauled, and afew Peach slices on a small
plate, the fruit glistening, making my mouth water.
But I can wait. Orange juice, cold from the
fridge, goes into a short glass.By now the toast has popped.

(04:31):
I slather the slices with soft butter, then spoon jam into a
ramkin in case I want to sweetenit up.
The jam is thick and dotted withchunks of fruit.
Raspberry in this batch. It's the one my grandmother made
for me last summer in jars with handwritten labels.

(04:56):
Placing everything onto the trayis a bit of an art that I'm
still trying to master. The tea goes on last with a
small cup I love for its delicate handle.
I breathe in for a moment beforepicking the tray up carefully,

(05:17):
carefully and carry it up to thebedroom.
The cats have shifted only slightly. 1 blinks at me,
unbothered. The other is now sprawled beside
my pillow, luckily both out of the way, leaving room for me and
my balancing act. I set the tray to one side and

(05:42):
put some music on before slidingunder the covers again.
The tray fits perfectly over my lap, sturdy and high enough to
keep the crumbs contained. I arrange a napkin just in case,
adjust my pillows, and settle in.

(06:04):
I start with the T, pouring it into the cup.
The steam curls up right away, and I take a few seconds to
watch it dance. I put some milk into the
granola, hearing the crisp chunks tapping the sides of the
ceramic bowl, not wanting to wait.

(06:27):
A spoonful gives the satisfying crunch, with the texture broken
up by the chewy raisins. I alternate between bites of
granola and sips of juice, the Tang of orange bright against
the deep cinnamon flavour. I add in bites of the toast,

(06:51):
opting to cover one piece with the jam.
I think of the afternoon my grandmother made it, jars lined
up across her kitchen table while we chatted over tea and
biscuits used to test out the jam.
Of course. I wonder how many jars I have

(07:12):
left. One of the cats stirs and
stretches, long toes flexed in slow satisfaction.
I want to offer a tiny crumb of toast but no, they're better off
without it, their content just being near by as it seems we all

(07:33):
like the company. With the toast gone, I finished
the fruit. The strawberries are in season
and the taste proves exactly that.
The Peaches are juicy and soft as well.
I move to the tee, now cooled just enough to drink freely.

(07:55):
Everything is mostly gone now, only the teapot and cups still
partially full. Beside me on the night stand, a
neat stack of books awaits some fiction that I've been dipping
in and out of. Setting the tray to my side,

(08:17):
careful not to stir the sleepingones around me, I reach for one,
thumbing through its pages to decide if it's the right one.
For this moment. There's no plan, no obligation,
I read for a while. Not long enough to get deeply
lost, but enough to let my breakfast settle.

(08:42):
Eventually, I stretch. One cat rolls over on its back,
belly exposed, legs sprawled in their own starfish position.
The other rises and does a slow walk across my lap before
curling up again on my other side.

(09:04):
They seemed to have enjoyed thisas much as I have, this luxury
taken once in a while on mornings such as this.
Breakfast in bed. I roll over onto my back,

(09:28):
scooting myself onto the hill that has formed in the middle of
the bed. It's firm and feels good on my
back, this sheet. Sarah bit rumpled around my
limbs, so I puff the top sheet and the fluffy duvet up, letting

(09:48):
them float down, settling over me as smooth as can be.
Reaching my hands and feet to the four corners of the
mattress, starfishing as wide asI can, I sink into the stretch.
The rain taps at the window across the room telling me it's

(10:12):
OK to stay like this for a while.
Letting me know there's no rush to get anywhere or get anything
done quite yet, or even at all to day if I choose.
Noticing my movement from somewhere in the house, my 2

(10:33):
cats hop up and find spots to settle in around me.
Well, if you insist that I stay a bit longer.
I sigh towards the ceiling. The thought comes to me of
having breakfast in bed. I only do this every few months

(10:55):
and it always feels like something indulgent to day.
Feels like the perfect day for it.
Carefully, I ease myself out of bed so as not to disturb the
cats too much. The one by my knees barely
stirs, the other lifts its head,then sinks back into sleep.

(11:20):
I tiptoe into my slippers, swooped my house coat around me,
and head downstairs to the kitchen.
Moving slowly and quietly, I click the kettle on to boil and
take out a small teapot. Its roll is usually a decoration

(11:42):
on the top shelf of the buffet and hutch by the pantry, so I
give it a quick rinse, ice, scoop loose tea into the ball
and rest it in the teapot. One that's floral and dark, that
opens slowly with the heat on the counter.

(12:03):
The fresh sourdough weights fromyesterday's farmers market.
I sliced 2 pieces and lower theminto the toaster.
I dig out the lap tray that I keep in the pantry, opening its
legs to stand on the kitchen island while I fill it with

(12:25):
breakfast supplies. The farmers market also provided
the granola that I moved into a glass clamp jar, its lid sealed
but popping open with ease. It smells sweet with almonds,
cinnamon and raisins as I pour some into a bowl and put oat

(12:49):
milk into a Creamer. Beside it.
I arrange fresh strawberries, already washed and hauled, and a
few Peach slices on a small plate, the fruit glistening,
making my mouth water. But I can wait.
Orange juice, cold from the fridge, goes into a short glass.

(13:15):
By now the toast has popped. I slather the slices with soft
butter, then spoon jam into a ramkin in case I want to sweeten
it up. The jam is thick and dotted with
chunks of fruit. Raspberry in this batch.
It's the one my grandmother madefor me last summer in jars with

(13:40):
handwritten labels. Placing everything onto the tray
is a bit of an art that I'm still trying to master.
The tea goes on last with a small cup I love for its
delicate handle. I breathe in for a moment before

(14:01):
picking the tray up carefully, carefully and carry it up to the
bedroom. The cats have shifted only
slightly. 1 blinks at me, unbothered.
The other is now sprawled besidemy pillow, luckily both out of
the way, leaving room for me andmy balancing act.

(14:27):
I set the tray to one side and put some music on before sliding
under the covers again. The tray fits perfectly over my
lap, sturdy and high enough to keep the crumbs contained.
I arrange a napkin just in case,adjust my pillows, and settle

(14:49):
in. I start with the T, pouring it
into the cup. This steam curls up right away,
and I take a few seconds to watch it dance.
I put some milk into the granola, hearing the crisp
chunks tapping the sides of the ceramic bowl, not wanting to

(15:14):
wait. A spoonful gives the satisfying
crunch, with the texture broken up by the chewy raisins.
I alternate between bites of granola and sips of juice, the
Tang of orange bright against the deep cinnamon flavour.

(15:34):
I add in bites of the toast, opting to cover one piece with
the jam. I think of the afternoon my
grandmother made it. Jurors lined up across her
kitchen table while we chatted over tea and biscuits used to
test out the jam. Of course.

(15:57):
I wonder how many jars I have left.
One of the cats stirs and stretches, long toes flexed in
slow satisfaction. I want to offer a tiny crumb of
toast, but no, they're better off without it, their content
just being nearby as it seems weall like the company.

(16:22):
With the toast gone, I finish the fruit.
The strawberries are in season and the taste proves exactly
that. The Peaches are juicy and soft
as well. I move to the tee, now cooled
just enough to drink freely. Everything is mostly gone now,

(16:45):
only the teapot and cups still partially full.
Beside me on the night stand, a neat stack of books awaits some
fiction that I've been dipping in and out of.
Setting the tray to my side, careful not to stir the sleeping

(17:06):
ones around me, I reach for one,thumbing through its pages to
decide if it's the right one. For this moment.
There's no plan, no obligation, I read for a while.
Not long enough to get deeply lost, but enough to let my

(17:26):
breakfast settle. Eventually, I stretch.
One cat rolls over on its back, belly exposed, legs sprawled in
their own starfish position. The other rises and does a slow
walk across my lap before curling up again on my other

(17:49):
side. They seemed to have enjoyed this
as much as I have, this luxury taken once in a while on
mornings such as this. I wish you sweet dreams.