I had just finished rinsing the shampoo out of my hair in the shower when my cell phone rang. I generally don’t take my cell phone into the bathroom, which allows me to ignore any calls during soap-and-scrub time.

But I could hear it and guilt rushed over me. Maybe this was important. I grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower to see who was calling.

It was my sister.

With dripping fingers, I carefully lifted the phone and punched the green button. Water ran down my just-showered body, drenching the rug. I usually toweled off before getting out. You didn’t want to know that anyway.

“Cover your eyes,” I said, draping myself with the towel.

She hung up.

Should I call her back? Should I dry myself off first? Caught in indecision, I stood and dripped.

The phone rang again. It was my sister again. I assumed she’d accidentally hung up. She does that sometimes. Or mutes me inadvertently. Or so she says. But I’m digressing again.

As I pushed the accept button, I noticed that she had used FaceTime this time.

Facetime is a video phone call and there I stood draped in a soggy towel with soaked hair.

Well, it was my sister and she only had to see my dripping hair as long I aimed the camera on my phone correctly. I carefully lifted the phone until it was capturing only my wet nose.

“Why are you FaceTiming me?”

“I wanted you to see my new tooth,” she said.

I remembered then. She’d gotten an implant the day before at the dentist. She stretched her mouth to reveal the bright new tooth, up close on my phone screen. I could see her new teeth and I hoped she only saw my wet nose.

She started giggling. “Where are you?”

But did she then say, “Call me back when you’re dry”? No, she did not. She pressed on. 

“The dentist screwed this implant on and it matches really well, huh?” Then she snorted. Assuming teeth implants aren’t really humorous, I guessed she was laughing at my dripping hair.

“And I have to pick up my grandson today and take him to the park,” she said and then began giggling. What? Trips to the park produce giggles? All I knew was that I wasn’t re-adjusting my phone view.

“And later I’m going to run downtown for a manicure.” More snickering.

Good grief, girl. Implants, park visits, and manicures while I was drip-drying outside the shower. I was so pleased to be her morning entertainment. 

When the techies worked on the chips and circuits that would allow us to combine phone calls with video, I think they had images of salesmen using charts to illustrate quarterly earnings. Or giggling babies reaching out to touch their grandmother who lived across the country. Or a soldier connecting with his wife and kids from a foreign country.

And I’ll bet all those things happen.

But I wonder if their vision ever included stretched gums, new teeth, and dripping hair.