A while back, a friend of mine was telling me about a brand new Mexican saddle he once purchased. It was quite impressive, he said. All of the tiny, intricate lines deeply carved into the leather; it was a beautiful work of art. And when he was invited to go on an all day ride with some buddies, he couldn't wait to show it off.
However...
After about the first hour, all of those tiny, intricate lines started wearing into razor sharp edges. Not wanting to come off as a "sissy" to the rest of the group, he just kept going. By the end of the day, his seat and legs were a raw, bloody mess.
Being the socially acceptable thing to do, he hung around after the ride to kick back a few cold ones. By the time he got home that night, it was a much later hour than he had told his wife to expect, and he'd consumed a bit more alcohol than she would tolerate. Thankfully, she was asleep, and he carefully made his way to the bathroom, which was attached to their bedroom. Knowing right where the Neosporin was in medicine cabinet, he left the light off as he grabbed it and started confidently applying it to his skinless inner thighs. Unfortunately, as he soon came to realize, he had not gotten the Neosporin, but rather the tube of Ben Gay. It was not the lights turning on that woke his wife, but the screams of agonizing pain, as he writhed around the bathroom floor, pants-less and begging for mercy.
He sold his nearly new hand carved Mexican saddle shortly after that. I don't know who ended up with it, but hopefully it was someone who knows turning on the bathroom light when you come home late, drunk and bleeding may have far less consequences than trying to apply Neosporin in the dark.