I really love a bumblebee. Now I have been stung by a bumblebee before. And actually, that stung taught me how patient — that sting, I mean, taught me how patient they are. I was at my parents’ house, I think, and something kept landing on my arm and I assumed it was a fly, so I brushed it off. And it just kept landing on the same spot and I brushed it off. And I, I mean, I must’ve brushed it off half a dozen times. And the last time, you know, suddenly I felt this sting, and it really hurt. Bumblebees, I guess, have a big stinger or a lot of venom or something. I mean, they really let you know. But, so, because I looked down and realized, “Oh my god,” you know, “A bumblebee is on my arm, stinging me and he’s ticked — she’s ticked off.” And I just realized how patient that bee had been. ‘Cause clearly, it really wanted to be on my arm. Why, I don’t know. And it let me brush it off so many times before it finally had had enough. So, I always have a lot of bumblebees around my flower beds in the spring and, um, I don’t know. There’s something about them. They’re kind of goofy looking and, I don’t know, it’s easy to think of them as sweet, and, um, I just love them.