One thing that I find
The latter model makes a lot more sense because hay and bedding and feed take up a lot of interior space in a store and most people want to buy more than one bale or bag and don't necessarily enjoy loading it themselves. But maybe this store is trying something new on purpose...I mean, what do I know? I'm just the customer...It is true that theoretically, I could find a helpful store clerk to assist me with loading my bales, but I have yet to find such a person at this particular store. So, I mostly buy 2 bales when I go, because that is how many I can squeeze into the shopping cart. I could probably make multiple trips, but after I've wrestled two 50 lb. bales into a cart that keeps sliding away from me, struggle to push the heavy and now unwieldy cart (because it probably was designed to put groceries in, not hay bales) to the check-out lane, wait in line because there is somehow only ever one cashier no matter how many shoppers there are, go through the painful process of checking out (there is often a malfunctioning barcode reader or a price issue), explain to the surprised clerk (who is surprised because she can't believe I found someone to load the hay for me) that I really did load it myself, push the cart out to the parking lot where I again wrestle with the bales while the cart wanders aimlessly around, and wheel the cart back to the store, I've kind of had it with said store and said process and I just want to go home.
Today, however, I was lucky enough to come across what I suspect to be the only cart in the store that is designed more like a cart you'd find at a garden center. It is sturdier and has a large platform on the bottom with just a small bin on top near the handle which conveniently carries my purse. I can fit THREE WHOLE BALES in this cart, so I took advantage of the opportunity. The cart was regrettably too big to turn or navigate easily, but I still managed to get three bales, which extends the time between this visit and the next.
The extra fun part was that it started raining shortly before I got to the store (I probably would have gotten there before the rain started, but I stupidly took the route that apparently all other people in the world also decided to take, thus causing the speed of my vehicle to slow to that of an arthritic amoeba). So I loaded the hay into my husband's tiny car in the rain, and I thoughtfully put my keys in the exact spot upon which I would need to load the hay. I unfortunately did not realize this particularly brilliant maneuver until after I loaded all the bales and spent 5 minutes trying to find the keys and wondering how a person could possible misplace keys in such a limited amount of time and space (I misplace keys quite frequently, much to my dismay, and I have apparently permanently lost the other set to my husband's car, so I am on probation when it comes to possession of keys). Eventually it occurred to me to unload the bales, whereupon I uncovered my missing keys.
By then, I was soaked and irritated and still had 2 errands to run (one of which was going out to the barn to unload the hay). Luckily it was still 70 degrees outside, so I wasn't cold. I was, however, thinking longingly about the dry ground that was starting to emerge in a few places in Nimo's paddock and how the rain was really going to snuff out all that dryness.
To add to the fun, the time was now fully into the "rush hour" (which basically means any time between 2 and 7 these days), so I could expect lots of exciting times waiting at stop lights and creeping along the well-traveled roads out to the barn.
I did manage to find a couple of radio stations not playing Christmas music and I alternated between happily singing along to good music and drifting off into the semi-coma state that commuters get when stuck in traffic so that they don't go insane and just start running people off the road in a haze of anger because it shouldn't take 10 minutes to go half a mile.
It had blessedly stopped raining by the time I got to the barn, so I was able to get the bales into a wheelbarrow and set up in front of Nimo's stall with a minimum of effort. And then I gave Nimo his one flake of hay, petted him for a minute, cried about how muddy he was, and headed off to my next errand.