“Mégane, do you ever sleep here anymore?” My guard asked me as I was rushing in from work in order to grab a suitcase and head for the airport.

Not if I can help it, was my inside voice’s reply to his half-kidding question.

I’m not spending a ton of time at my house this year, and this is kind of by design. It’s not that I am dissatisfied with the fanciness of my ivory tower accommodations, it’s just that after fifteen months of this Groundhog Day my short-attention span would rather spend time anywhere else. No kidding.

One of the people who knows me best recently remarked that I act more like myself when I’m not in Dakar. Truth be told, I believe this to be a spot-on assessment. Like my neglected apartment, I’m not trying to criticize my current city (again)…it’s just that I don’t plan on purchasing a retirement home anywhere near the African Renaissance Monument. I am grateful for the chance to be an Olmsted Scholar in Dakar, but at this stage I’m better off using that place as a storage unit and central hub in support of OPERATION RESTORE SANITY. I say this as I write my blog entry in the fresh ocean air of Cape Verde. My morale really does escalate with the altitude gained each time I leave Leopold Sedar Senghor Airport.

Does that last nugget of honesty qualify me as Worst Olmsted Scholar Ever? Perhaps.

The job that I’ve got is a ridiculously good scam deal, but I will also say that by design it is an extremely challenging assignment – especially when you’re doing it as a single person. Problem solving is your neverending mission, and this can get old when you’re off the grid and not living on the Navy hog. We’re pretty well looked-after in the military, and that’s why (during my tougher days) I sometimes check out the “hot fill” billets for a chance to get back into a world that I love to complain about but at least provides unconditional support. 

And so will all of this whining accomplished, let me also say that I absolutely love the challenge of what I’m doing. Even when I’m spending weeks at a time sleeping in my own bed or spending exasperating seconds trapped in my building’s elevator because the power just went out (again)….I’m not actually going to begging the Navy to put me out to sea for 21 of the past 24 months (I’m talking to you, USS PONCE). There is simply too much randomness worth discovering as I find myself on the go here in OlmstedLand. Like bad covers of Metallica songs that will serenade you in la brousse of southern Senegal.