Success is Relative

I peered out of the corner of my eye at the Correos de Chile. I had been holding onto these 26 postcards for a week now, too scared to go to the post office and try to buy stamps. I reasoned with myself as I walked by.
"Mamie, if you keep waiting to send these postcards either you never will or they will be all old news by the time they get to the States."
"Post office people in the States are mean. What if they're mean here too?"
"You won't be able to understand them anyway so you won't even know."
"Good point. But what if they don't take credit cards ... you don't have enough cash."
"Well there's a ATM not too far from here. Just go get some cash and come back. STOP BEING SUCH A WUSS!"
When I called myself a wuss, that was the last straw. I was doing this post office thing today if it killed me. Two-out-of-service ATMs and a very helpful post office lady later, I was back out in the sun with 26 postcard stamps. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and stood basking in the warmth and the knowledge that I bought stamps all by myself.
On instant messenger last week a friend, Blake, asked me if my trip to Chile had been successful thus far. I was confused by the question. I have eaten everday. Success. I am clean most of the time. Success. I haven't gotten hit by a speeding micro bus. Major success. No, my spanish isn't perfect. Ok let's be honest, it's not even close. But yesterday I bought stamps on my own. SUCCESS!