When I was a youngen, I was different than all the other kids in a fundamental way: I hated the summer. Sure, you got school off, but I just never cared about beach trips and sweating on my own couch. When it came to naming your favorite season, you were cool if you said “summer” (and gay if you said “spring”, and a total nerd if you said “autumn” because that word is stupid). I went against the grain. I always said “winter.” Here’s why.