I love my job, I love my office, I love a whole lot of other things. But, when the sun is shining through my living room windows the way it was this morning, it is very hard to leave home.

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)

A crime of passion? Depraved indifference to the importance of tuneage? Death by music? The simple fact is that most audiophiles got that way by having too many records. That's right&#151;very few got into this rewarding, non-contact sport because they were aroused by shiny brushed-steel boxes or supersexy speaker grilles. It's because they wanted to hear their piles of music&#151;their Mahler, Monk, or Rick James&#151;sound the best it could. (And, okay, yes: It <I>is</I> cool to show drooling friends your designer gear.)