The story you've been waiting for

First off, I have such great friends. Thank you all for your help! I couldn't have broken my foot in a better place. And I could really milk it if I wanted to, but really, I'm fine. I went to the doctor yesterday and even though my toes are blue, she said it's bruising, not gangrene, and they won't have to amputate after all. Which is good. If anyone wants a dog for a little company on a walk, please come pick up sad, sad, Ray. The saddest dog ever.
So here's the story I promised to tell. The house I'm staying in is in a cul de sac. The neighbors are simultaneously very friendly and very nosy. When I lived here last year, I was sunbathing in front of the house 'cause that's where the sun is. I was drinking one of my summer cocktails in a Nalgene bottle, and I guess I fell asleep. About 3 hours later, I sensed someone's presence. Kathy, the neighbor, was standing over me and said, "Oh, thank god! You were lying in that same position when I left the house three hours ago and I thought maybe you were dead!"
No, I told her. Just tan. The clincher to this story is that I was reading Rachel's book, a collection of essays on famous people who have committed suicide, aptly named, Suicide. I was a bit obsessed with the subject at the time. I have, however, gotten over it and don't find it so fascinating anymore.
Kathy and I have remained friends ever since, and we laugh about this. So when I was sunbathing with my cast the other day, I made sure to knock on her door and tell her I'd be out there, and not to worry if I fell asleep.
The end.