I was sitting by my windowas I always do each morningwhen a strange thing started happeningwithout the slightest warning.It began by raining buckets,several dustpans and a broom,and a box of sponges landednear the window with a boom.Several mops appeared from nowhereAnd with playfulness and skillThey paraded in formationand they danced upon the sill.Then a dozen cans of cleanserand a hundred bars of soap,spun in circles 'round my bedroomlike a spiral gyroscope.They did pirouettes and pivots.They performed a song-and-dance.Then they finished with a combinationwiggle, waltz and prance.Then they just as quickly vanished,turning cartwheels 'cross the floor,they went bounding out the windowand they tumbled out the door.I have no idea what happened,so I guess I'll just assumethis is someone's way of telling methat I should clean my room.