Un-shlumping My Borfin

And poor Mr. Bix!
Every morning at six,
poor Mr. Bix has his Borfin to fix!

It doesn't seem fair.
It just doesn't seem right,
but his Borfin just seems to go shlump every night.

It shlumps in a heap,
sadly needing repair.
Bix figures it's due to the local night air.

It takes him all day to un-shlump it.
And then...
the night air comes back and it shlumps once again!

The above poem is from a page in a Dr. Suess book called Have I Ever Told You How Lucky You Are? It is the story of an older man telling a kid about all the people who are "ever so much more, oh muchly much much more unliky than" him, like poor Mr. Bix.

I read it to Bethelle last night. I think "borfin" is code for "house" and I think I might be Mr. Bix.