I don't know where you live, but I live in the north. The kind of place where the air actually hurts your face in January. And it's all very charming over the holidays when everything looks so pretty. But by this time of year, I need some warmth, even if it's just in my imagination. So I started thinking about those perfect hot summer afternoons, when naps are absolutely the best. You know the ones I mean, when it's so warm outside that all you want to do is find somewhere cool and dark.The sound of a fan turning lazily or an air conditioner humming in the distance. The way your eyelids get heavy because your body has been soaked in sunshine and heat until all it wants to do is rest. So tonight I'm taking you to one of those drowsy summer days, to a baseball game on the hottest afternoon of August.You don't have to understand baseball to enjoy this. I don't even really understand baseball, and I'm really hoping I got the game details to make sense. But I've always thought there's something soothing about the sound of a ball game, the lazy rhythm of it, the long pauses between pitches, the crack of a bat hitting a ball and then nothing much happening.It's like the perfect soundtrack for a nap. But first, please make absolutely sure you're somewhere safe to fall asleep, in bed, on a comfortable couch, anywhere you don't need to stay alert. And thank you to everyone who already follows the show.And if you haven't followed yet, please do. It's like keeping a good book on your nightstand, except this one is specifically designed to bore you to sleep in the best possible way. Now let's help your body remember how good it feels to truly relax.Let's start by noticing where you're lying right now. Feel the weight of your body being fully supported, your head cradled by your pillow. Take a moment to soften your face.Notice how much tension you carry in places you don't even think about. Your temples, the tiny muscles around your eyes and mouth. Let all of that tension go.And then bring your attention to your shoulders and your arms. Let your shoulders drop away from your ears, melting down toward the bed. Feel your arms growing heavier, your hands uncurling, your fingers loosening.Then let that wave of relaxation flow down through your torso, your hips, your legs. Feel your lower back releasing. And let your legs grow completely heavy, your feet falling open naturally. Your breathing is slowing down all by itself now. Finding that deeper, more peaceful rhythm. Each breath out releases a little more of whatever you don't need to carry into sleep.Each breath in brings you closer to that drowsy summer afternoon feeling we're about to explore together. Now let's step into the heat of an August day where a baseball game is about to teach us everything we need to know about the art of taking our time. August has arrived like a warm, heavy blanket with a kind of heat that makes the air feel thick and drowsy.Somewhere in the distance a lawnmower hums and then stops, probably because even the grass is too tired to grow. Air conditioners work overtime with that steady electrical hum that becomes the soundtrack of August. The local baseball diamond sits baking in the afternoon sun.Wooden bleachers stretch along both baselines. Painted forest green years ago but now faded to a softer shade. It's the bottom of the seventh inning and the score has been stuck at 2-2 for what feels like hours. In the batter's box, player number 15 takes his time adjusting his helmet, testing his grip on the aluminum bat. He's got the kind of deep laugh lines around his eyes that come from years of squinting into sunny skies like this one. The pitcher winds up slowly as if the heat has gradually wound him down, like a clock running low on power. He's a delivery driver who spends all day in and out of air-conditioned trucks and even he's feeling the weight of this afternoon. In the stands about 40 people are scattered across the wooden bleachers and every single one of them looks like they're fighting the drowsiness that comes with hot summer afternoons. The metal has absorbed heat all day and radiates it back like an oven but somehow it's not unpleasant, more like being wrapped in something warm and sleepy. A woman in her 60s wearing a sun hat with a wide brim sits in whatever shade the small press box provides. A crossword puzzle is forgotten in her lap. Her pen hasn't moved in several minutes and her eyes keep drifting closed and then opening again. Three rows down, a young dad rocks a stroller back and forth with one hand. The baby inside sleeps peacefully despite the heat, the crowd noise and everything else. The rhythmic motion of the stroller is hypnotic and the father's own eyelids are getting heavy.Sleep is contagious especially on hot afternoons like this. A few sections over, a woman in scrubs clearly just off a shift at the hospital has given up pretending to follow the game. She's pulled her ball cap low over her eyes and is thinking about her bedroom back home.Blackout curtains drawn against the afternoon sun the air conditioner humming steadily the way her pillow knows exactly the curve of her face. On the field the batter steps out of the box and takes a practice swing. Everything feels slower in this heat.He adjusts his helmet, wipes his hands on his uniform pants number 15 visible on his back in faded navy letters and steps back in. The count works to 1-1 then 2-2 and somehow it feels like this at bat has been going on for 20 minutes. No one minds there's nowhere else to be.Nothing more pressing than sitting in the heat and watching these grown men engage in the timeless dance of pitcher versus batter. In the dugout players lean against the chain link fence with their caps pulled low moving only when absolutely necessary. A marketing manager who plays third base fans himself with a roster sheet.The first baseman has closed his eyes entirely and might actually be dozing. Even the teenage section is affected by the heat. A group of kids sprawled across an entire row of bleachers including one boy who's still wearing a black hoodie with the hood up despite the temperature because he thinks it looks cool. His friends have given up trying to convince him it's just stupid. They're sharing a bag of ice from the concession stand taking turns holding pieces against their necks and wrists. Too warm for their usual phone scrolling.The little concession stand a wooden shack the same faded green as the bleachers moves at the pace of summer heat. The volunteer behind the counter hands out ice cold sodas and popsicles. The small girl sits on the bottom bleacher methodically working on a multicolored popsicle that's melting faster than she can eat it. Blue and red syrup drips down her small fingers and she doesn't seem to care. She's wearing a sundress with tiny flowers on it and has the completely absorbed expression of someone engaged in very important work. Her grandmother sits behind her occasionally reaching forward with tissues but mostly just watching the game.The batter finally makes contact. A weak pop-up that drifts lazily toward the first baseline. Even the ball seems affected by the heat hanging in the air before settling into the first baseman's glove. The count runs full before the batter strikes out swinging at a change up and the small crowd stirs slightly not with disappointment but with the barely conscious hope that the inning might move along. Three up. Three down. And they'll switch sides for the top of the eighth. The score remains 2-2 exactly as it has been for the past two innings as the players jog slowly to their positions the crowd saddles in for more of the same. A teenager with multiple friendship bracelets up her arm has fallen asleep sitting up her head tilted back against the bleacher behind her. Her phone has slipped from her hand and lies forgotten beside her. Even her friends are too drowsy to notice or care. In the stands conversation has died away to occasional murmurs. The woman with the crossword has given up entirely and dozed off. The young father has stopped actively rocking the stroller but the baby continues to sleep peacefully. Her tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Even the players in the dugout have reached a state of heat-induced meditation sitting with their backs against the fence existing somewhere between waking and sleeping. The game continues around them like a slow motion ballet performed underwater. The ninth inning arrives.Both teams seem relieved just to be near the end. The visiting team manages to get one runner on base but he's stranded there when the next three batters ground out in succession still 2-2 heading to the bottom of the ninth. The home team's first batter with forearms like tree trunks steps into the box. And immediately calls time to adjust his batting gloves. The delay is welcome. Everyone uses the break to shift position slightly searching for comfort on the bleachers.Sipping on drinks that went warm an hour ago. When play resumes he works the count full before grounding weakly to second base. The second baseman doesn't have to move more than two steps to feel it. And his throw to first is routine and unhurried. The next batter who still uses a wooden bat because he likes the sound it makes strikes out on three pitches. Each swing a little weaker than the last.Two outs now and the crowd can sense the end. Not with excitement but with the quiet relief of people who have endured something together. The final batter steps into the box.He takes a few practice swings. The pitcher winds up one last time delivering a fastball and the batter swings making contact. It sends the ball on a lazy arc towards center field.Just a routine fly ball that the center fielder settles under with plenty of time to spare. He catches it with both hands. And the game is over.Final score 2-2. A tie game that will go into someone's scorebook is a game where nothing definitive happened. Where no one won or lost as the players shake hands with weary politeness.The small crowd begins the slow process of standing up and stretching muscles. The young dad collects his diaper bag and pushes the stroller toward the parking lot. The baby still sleeping.Teenagers move in slow motion toward their bikes. Even the boy in the hoodie finally takes it off admitting defeat. The little girl with the melted popsicle takes her grandmother's hand. Both of them walking slowly toward the parking lot. Players gather their equipment bags and water bottles. Thinking about air conditioning and cold showers. And the simple luxury of lying down somewhere cool and dark. Everyone drives away slowly. Windows down despite the heat.Too tired to rush. Already anticipating the moment when they can finally rest. And isn't that the best feeling? That moment when your body finally says yes to rest. When sleepiness washes over you like a wave. Sleepiness is such a weird thing. And sometimes it comes when you don't want it to. In the middle of an important meeting. During a movie you've been wanting to see. On a warm afternoon when there are still things you meant to do.And sometimes it stays away when you desperately need it. When you're lying in bed at midnight. Or 2 a.m. or 4 in the morning.Wanting so badly to drift off. But that's just how sleepiness works. It's not something you can force or control, any more than you can force the sun to set or make the wind blow. All you can do is relax into it when it comes. You might feel it happening now. That lovely heaviness starting in your limbs, that softening around the edges of your thoughts. Your body remembers what it felt like on those perfect summer afternoons when sleep came so easily - when you'd stretch out on a couch or a bed, the curtains drawn against the bright sun. You need this rest. Your mind needs it, after all the thinking and planning and worrying it does every single day. Always trying to stay ahead of everything, always working. And your body needs it too - needs these moments of complete stillness. No agenda, no timeline, no pressure to be anywhere or do anything. Just this moment of perfect permission to rest. To let your thoughts grow fuzzy and unfocused. To feel your body growing heavier and more relaxed with each breath. Feel yourself settling deeper into your bed now. Feel how the mattress supports every part of you, how the pillow cradles your head. Notice how your breathing has slowed.  The day is done. Whatever happened today, whatever might happen tomorrow - none of that matters in this moment. Right now, there's only this: your body growing heavy and relaxed, your thoughts growing softer and dreamier, sleep approaching. Let yourself drift now, the way you would have drifted off on those perfect summer afternoons, when sleep felt as natural and easy as breathing. Sleep now. Sleep deeply. Sleep well.