Coronavirus diary: At home, on furlough and keeping an eye on my neighbors' deliveries

Remember when we were free people?

In early March, with fresh news about a virus that either came from a bat, a Chinese lab or a leg of lamb, the shutdown moved with the speed of the new Bryson DeChambeau drive.

Until that point, there were just a couple of fake news reports we shrugged off while we made plans for spring training games.

That was then. This is now. Even with the opening of outdoor dining and scenes of people filing into convenience stores like they were handing out vaccines, effects of the last few months will linger.

I count myself among those who thought a couple of weeks working from home was not a bad thing. My daily commute pounded my vehicle and my psyche in what David Foster Wallace, in his legendary commencement speech at Kenyon College in 2005 referred to as "day in and day out." Good could certainly come out of cutting out the commute and the struggle to create new curse words for every driver who apparently bribed or slept with their motor vehicle test instructor.

That was then. This is now. With furloughs and worse compounding home-bound life, we've had time to reflect.

1. It is better to work during a lockdown than not.

Those of us not in the retirement zone basically thrive on work. Sure, we complain about it, but that's half the fun of working. To keep in practice, I routinely complain about the chair that has shrunk me to the size of a Chia Pet, the lack of distractions of colleagues revealing the end of season eight of "Homeland" and and why Golf Channel won't show every Ryder Cup rerun at 6 a.m.

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My first day of furlough in April found me on my living room floor on a chilly afternoon watching a horror movie. Hmmm, this ain't bad, I mused. So with drowsiness moving in, I pulled a blanket off the couch and settled in.

Minutes later, my wife, who had been working like she was four people, bounded down for lunch when she did a double-take at the scene on the floor. "Oh, no, no. This is just not going to work," is all she said.

Because I went back to work a week later, divorce proceedings were postponed. Shame, because then I could have binged watched all of the Ken Burns documentaries.

Lesson: if you are going to dog it while on a home-quarantined furlough, try doing it in a closet.

2. There are more yoga instructors, yoga Instagram accounts and yoga pants in the world than there are fake Twitter accounts.

This leads me to believe I am the last human not hatha flowing around the living room in my yoga outfits. There apparently are no overweight yoga instructors either. Each weighs approximately slightly more than a moth and sports the flexibility of a python. The only question left is what did people wear before yoga pants?

3. My dog sleeps approximately 75 hours a day.

He makes Rip Van Winkle look like an insomniac. Before coronavirus, I worried about him getting out during the day. I hired walkers who came in like home health care nurses. If late, they would text and I would worry he was waiting by the window, legs crossed, dreaming of grass strips and fragrant bushes. Now I know he has either the bladder of an elephant or the urinary control of a hibernating black bear, not to mention the ambition of a rock and the snoring power of a saw mill.

When he is not sleeping, he is either eating or thinking about sleeping.

4. Of all the delivery folks, UPS delivery people seem to be in the best shape.

Maybe it is the snappy crisp brown uniforms that project dominance. My street is a dead end so I see every delivery. Bless everyone of these front line workers. And yet I can't help thinking that a reality show pitting each company's delivery guys against each other in a series of delivery challenges would not draw at least an audience rating of 15. There are dumber things on television.

One guy delivered a sideboard buffet close to six feet long and in a box the size of two coffins. The guy carried it overhead with one arm like a pizza. When he rang the bell, he asked if I wanted him to carry it in. I looked around for the other guy.

5. I'm so happy my children are young adults.

If this had happened circa 1999, with three kids under the age of eight and at least one in diapers, my career would have cratered, divorce would have been a certainty and late night movies would have been replaced by whimpering in the bathroom.

As it is, I empathize with some of my colleagues, who dutifully join daily video calls amid a fusillade of children, pets, food and toys sailing across the screen like flying squirrels. The routine of siblings warring plays out on Zoom calls like scenes from "Game of Thrones." I make the sign of the cross every time one of them comes on my screen, praying a toy doesn't strike them in the head.

5. Dinner plans kick early.

Before Pandemicville, dinner thoughts stayed at bay until I drove home. Now my family members are texting what's for dinner shortly after my neighbor's bird feeder gets attacked by birds at dawn.

6. Washing your hands beats meditation.

The average time someone used to spend washing their hands equaled the time it took to screw in a light bulb. Now, people are composing sonatas while they soap up in America's bathrooms.

7. Video platforms have cemented relationships.

I have seen some of my best friends more these last few months than in the last few years. One group of pals from first grade used to meet once a year on a golf trip as time and commitment has scattered us from Seattle to Miami. Now, every two weeks we get a Zoom invite and we drop everything to kibitz like we did when we were 14.

8. We can't return to our former way of life.

Because if you thought buying masks was difficult, trying buying hazmat suits for a family of five next time.

Frank Scandale is the director of investigations for The Journal News/lohud in Westchester County, New York. Follow him on Twitter: @FScandale

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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Coronavirus diary: My dog actually sleeps this much?