It seems as if there is far too much to do in one day for Howie the little girl to keep up with.
"Wow," says Howie to her pet old man head, "I just want to sit down and relax but there's just so much to do."
She has to draw some pictures and take out the trash and clean the mold from behind Head's ears and avoid her older brother and eat all three meals and try to find the cookies inbetween and make her bed and jump on it as much as possible without her mom seeing her and sharpening that stick in the backyard against the concrete and chasing the roach out of her room and braiding and re-braiding her hair and taking a bath and doing her homework, not to mention going to school which sucks up most of every day.
"When I grow up," says Howie, "I'll live in a cave and kill anyone who tries to make me stop living there. I'll eat their insides for sustenance." Head nods his approval. "And we won't have to do anything we don't want to do," she adds.
The thought of a snuggly little cave in the montains with just her and Head and an assortment of skeletons makes her warm inside. She falls asleep under her bed, pretending they are caved already.