Our Bedtime Audiobook Ritual
When Leslie and I first got together almost ten years ago, we started a simple bedtime ritual. We’d climb into bed, she’d get comfortable, look over at me, and say, “Tell me a story.”
Not a fairy tale. Not something made up. Just… a story from my life.
She said it helped her fall asleep, and for a while, I had plenty to work with. Stories from my childhood. Hiking through the mountains. Weird, surreal moments from my time as a Mormon missionary. Random adventures from Geek and Gamer Fitness. Little memories I hadn’t thought about in years suddenly found new life in the dark. For a couple of years, I was a one-man audiobook, and honestly, I loved it.
Eventually, though, I started running out of material. Or at least, I ran out of stories that didn’t require charts, footnotes, or emotional disclaimers. So I suggested audiobooks. And just like that, we fell into a new ritual that’s lasted the better part of eight years.
We’ve listened to The Dresden Files, The Iron Druid Chronicles, Lockwood & Co., The Hobbit, and so many others—some of them so many times they feel like old friends quietly telling us goodnight.
But choosing the next audiobook is serious business in our house. There are rules.
First, it has to be something we’ve already read or heard. New stories are dangerous. They keep us awake, listening intently, suddenly caring far too much about fictional people when we should be unconscious.
Second, the narrator’s voice matters. A lot. Some voices are soothing. Some are… aggressively motivational. We need calm, steady, and gentle. Not “rise and grind,” but “it’s okay, you can sleep now.”
Third, absolutely no dramatic sound effects. Nothing ruins sleep faster than being jolted awake by sudden music, explosions, or gunshots. That’s not ambiance, that’s betrayal.
So we cycle through long, familiar series and usually drift off pretty quickly.
Last night, though, we needed something fresh. I picked Ready Player One, read by
Wil Wheaton. It’s always been a favorite of mine, probably because I grew up in the 80s and still carry a deep love for arcades, mixtapes, and questionable fashion choices.
Every time I revisit this book, one idea sticks with me: the way each character has their own digital space. A personal site where they keep their favorite music, movies, thoughts, art, all of it. One centralized place that’s fully, completely theirs.
And every time, I think… why didn’t we build that?
I remember when Facebook was new, and I honestly believed that’s what it would become, a digital home. A place for your photos, your thoughts, your favorite things. Instead, we ended up scattered across Facebook, Instagram, Threads, Bluesky, and a dozen other platforms, all owned by companies that profit from our attention, harvest our data, and decide what we see and when we see it.
It’s kind of bleak, when you step back and look at it.
But I still have hope. More people are building personal websites again. More folks are stepping back from social media, being thoughtful about where they share their photos and art, and reclaiming a sense of ownership over their work.
Maybe, slowly, we’re finding our way back. Back to having one small place on the internet that feels like home. A little digital corner that belongs to us, no algorithms attached.
And honestly? That sounds like a pretty good bedtime story.
