Straw or Hay?

Yesterday morning, about thirty minutes before I was supposed to go get the buddies at preschool, there was a light tapping on my back door.  It was an elderly lady wanting hay.  She said someone had sent her here for "old hay" that was $2.75.  I told her that we didn't have any "old hay", it has been gone for quite some time and that it wasn't $2.75.  I gave her the prices for alfafa hay and fescue hay, and then made sure she meant square bales.  Then a light came on.  She said she MEANT to say straw, not hay.  I told her we had plenty of straw across the street and it was $3.00 a bale.  She wasn't thrilled but she agreed.  I told her to follow me over there.  She wanted me to get in the car WITH her, but I said I would ride the Gator.  We get to the barn and she parks about twenty feet away from the loading area.  I walk closer to her car and tell her to go ahead and back up some more.  She tells me she can't back up because recently she hit someone while she was backing up and it cost her fifteen hundred dollars.  And to think... I almost got in the car WITH her.  She assures me that WE can carry the bales to her trunk.  I was wondering who the "we" exactly was, because she was very frail looking.  I grabbed one and started to the car, thinking to myself about how I was getting straw all over my good clothes and how itchy it was going to be.  She started kicking one end over end.  She then stopped and decided it would be better to supervise me around on how to load her trunk.  I put three bales in the trunk, and she said... two more should fit.  Her car wasn't huge.  I told her that I didn't think two more would fit but she insisted.  The trunk was now at a ninety degree angle with the car.  She told me to rearrange the bales.  She then decided to cut one open.  I replied that if we did that, the bale would explode and make a huge mess.  She said it was better to have a mess here than at home.  I explained that if I cut open that bale, there wouldn't BE a bale by the time she drove home... it would be all over the road.  We got them a tad bit better, and then I taught her how to strap down her trunk.  She got in her car and started counting out ones and quarters.  When she got to thirteen I told her that was enough, but she said no, she was going to pay the full amount of fifteen.  Sure enough, she had fifteen.  I told her thanks and have a great day... but she stopped me.  You deserve a tip, she said, and counted out three more quarters.  I think three shiny quarters is good, don't you, she asked me smiling.  Of course, I replied, now also smiling, and remembering how my grandaddy would pay us four dollars for mowing and raking ALL DAY LONG.  I reminded her how to get back on the main road, and she leaned her head out of the window and shouted, "If I get put in jail for this load I'm calling you!  My name is "so and so", and she was off.  Bless her heart, lol.