I’m sick of winter. I hear that refrain in the locker room, on the sidewalk, and in the grocery store. Except of course, for the skiers. They couldn’t be happier. But the rest of us mortals are tired of shoveling snow, walking ever so carefully on the ice, and putting on layers and more layers of clothing. My boots now have a hole in them, my gloves are mismatched, and I still can’t find the right hat when I rush out the door in the morning only to get hit by a cold blast.