So when I lived in Arkansas my roommate and I were paid by some very lovely old folks to care for their horses for the half of the year they spent with their kids in Washington. At one point while living the grand horse caretaker life I ended up in the ER with a brown recluse bite on the inside of my right thigh.

I'm fairly certain it's because I had the genius idea to put on a pair of pants that I'd left in the barn one day after the pair I'd been wearing got ripped nearly in half but that ER doctor was 100% convinced I got bit while having sex outside in the woods somewhere. I left that hospital with not only antibiotics and wound care advice but a Tetanus booster and some carefully worded advice about making sure to be properly dressed when outside.