I lose more denim jackets that way.

It wasn't until I had arrived home and stepped out of my car last night that I realized I had left my jacket at the bowling alley -- and that my cell phone for work was in the pocket. So much for going to bed on time. I drove back to the bowling alley but couldn't find it. I left a message at the desk and hoped that one of my league mates picked it up for me. When I got home the second time, there was my teammate, parked in front of my apartment. "I thought you'd probably need this," he said.

That was almost the second time I had lost a denim jacket in the bowling alley. The first one was back in college. That time, it wasn't so much the jacket I minded losing; it was the button I had on it, which read, "I refuse to grow up."