I called The Audiophile at work to report my concern, to which he responded, "It's cable." To which I responded, "No, it's not." This, of course, led to a classic round of marital YES-it-is. NO-it's-not. YES-it-is. NO-it's-NOT, because even though we're no longer terribly delinquent, we are obviously still juvenile.
When The Audiophile came home that night and opened the dead-mouse box, I'll be darned if there wasn't cable in the coffin. Silver cable, that is, which was daintily coiled up in some tissue paper. I have no idea what silver cable must cost, but if it replaces some of the dead-snake cable currently molting in The Listening Room, then I'm on board.
And that, my friends, is audio winning.