My cat, apparently, has an intuitive understanding of what makes "interesting." He pointed out to me today that, when sitting in a laundry basket, it is far more entertaining to try to catch the catnip-filled toy mouse through the holes of the basket than it is to simply reach up and over. When he can see all the mouse in its lame, grey cloth glory, the game loses its fun. Its mystery.
Which I guess is something of a reminder for writing, no? You can't just walk out naked onto the first page, you have to reveal your bits and pieces slowly. (Not to mix metaphors, or anything.)
No big revelation, but it does allow me to post a picture of my cute cat, Nuublay.