Imagine walking with your keys in hand up to the front door of your home. As you open the door you're hit with a stench that reminds you of roach spray. When you walk through you're appalled by the disarray. The foyer is covered with a liquid that reeks of urine and as you head toward the living room, you smell cigar smoke and you say to yourself 'I don't smoke.' Then you look over into the dining room to find your best china destroyed. You proceed to the kitchen to find filthy pots and pans stacked high in the sink, while the powder room reeks of that roach spray you encountered first.

Almost sprinting up the stairs you hurry to the master bedroom. Once there you find a woman in your bed having sex with a man. You stand there frozen! You can't believe your eyes! The woman looks at you with a blank stare and the man has a sinister grin. You see, the woman in bed is you; and the man, well let's just say he's The Fallen Angel. You look up toward heaven and ask, "What happened to my house?" Then God whispers, "Check Your Keys."