 I prefer winter, when everyone has to be bundled beyond recognition to survive, or fall, when you can wear something nice without sweating it sheer in the punishing heat. Too bad I can't afford to pack my one bag and move to the Arctic, because the minute I start seeing bare arms and booty shorts, my sad kicks in, and my happy doesn't return until in September, when, thank goodness, I can cover it up with a scarf.