Chrissy put down the laundry basket in front of my recliner.

“These are yours,” she said. “Mostly work clothes.”

“What do want me to do with them?” I asked, still staring blankly at the TV.

“Hang them up, maybe?”

“Why? I’m probably never gonna wear them again.”

I don’t remember what it’s like to wear a collared shirt, necktie or pants that don’t have a drawstring. The dress code here at the home office is so relaxed, it’s hard not to nod off at the laptop. I slept in the clothes I’m wearing, and probably will again tonight. Chrissy says I look “homeless,” but here I am in the dining room, under siege by an invisible virus that essentially shut down Life As We Knew It. Why dress like an adult when you’ve been grounded like a teenager who blew curfew?

This morning, I touched base with Scranton Mayor Paige Gebhardt Cognetti. I was in the garage and caught my reflection in a window: Mushroom cloud of gray hair, sweatpants, slippers and a long-sleeve thermal shirt. I looked like Ted Danson on a camping trip. I didn’t ask the mayor what she was wearing. That would be inappropriate.

Work is work, no matter where you do it, but there’s something to the idea of “dressing for success.” The business day is half over and I’m dressed for bed. Worse, I’m writing about it as if anyone cares. It’s just another of the many ways the coronavirus crisis has infected our daily routines. I used to get up, have coffee, take a shower and drive to work. Now I get up, have coffee, sniff my shirt and shuffle to the dining room table. According to the latest projections, this is how my mornings will start for the rest of April. At least.

About an hour ago, I carried my work clothes to the guest bedroom and dumped them on the dresser. I’ll hang them up tomorrow. Or in May.

Most Times-Tribune reporters and editors are working from home, but we are committed to bringing you the quality community journalism you expect and deserve. Get complete COVID-19 coverage here. U.S. Rep. Matt Cartwright asked Greyhound to limit bus service between New York City and Northeast Pennsylvania. Staff Writer Jon O’Connell has the story here. Staff Writer Borys Krawczeniuk has the grim details on the skyrocketing numbers of confirmed coronavirus cases in NEPA here  Staff Writer Jim Lockwood explores the crummy effect coronavirus has had on sales of Girl Scouts cookies here.

On the brighter side, Staff Writer Sarah Hofius Hall highlights business groups pulling together to feed their neighbors here. Staff Writer Kathleen Bolus kids becoming pen pals with rescued animals here. Come as you are.

How are you spending this strange day? Email me at or and I’ll share your stories in my daily diary. The Times-Tribune is still here, and so are you. We will get through whatever comes next together, one day at a time.

Hang in there, hunker down and wash your hands. And change those sweatpants.

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