I’m trapped in a house of testosterone. One husband, two sons, and not a scrap of femininity in sight. As the sole female in a man’s world, I’m just about able to cope with socks on the floor, toilet seats raised and the ape-like slamming of doors and drawers. But I draw the line at television viewing. At the end of the day, when I’m trying to unwind and prepare for sleep, I really don’t think Die Hard III or Crime Scene Investigation is going to speed me to my dreams. So when we’re choosing what to watch I insist, time and again, “I want to Continue Reading