Yeah, I've got that problem too. Last night the lovely and talented Mrs. Kid Cossack and I went to dinner at Rudi Lechner's restaurant here in Baghdad on the Bayou. I had to do the "pocket dance" to remember if my keys were in the sporran, or in the pockets of my jacket (which isn't a real kilt jacket, but is a nice M1-ish bomber jacket I picked up in Mongolia). Back when I wore photographer vests, the problem was worse worse worse. Fifteen thousand pockets and I could never remember exactly where I put things. (Still better than wearing trews!)