The sign on the Nescafé vending machine at the Laundromat this morning sums it up nicely.

Every now and then something breaks and we’re forced to appreciate the small things that we routinely take for granted. A few hours ago, I made breakfast for my mother who injured her right hand and will not be able to do much with it for the next few days. But it’s not so much her inability to do certain house chores or cook breakfast that has me most in awe of the intricacies of the body, just how much it does for us and how little we appreciate it; it’s the shock and nerve shattering pain she felt while performing the simple action of opening a bag of crisps.

I don’t think we’d ever be able to take stock of just how much we really take for granted.