He tries on the role of caretaker after his boyfriend Hugh's hip-replacement surgery, and both succeeds and fails. He buys his sister a cape and discusses his brother with a jaded Duolingo bot. He walks dozens of miles with his friend Dawn and challenges her to eat a truck tire. Ever adding to his list of "Countries I Have Been To," he rides a horse named Tequila in Guatemala, buys a bespoke priest's cassock in Vatican City, and goes on safari in Kenya without taking a single photo. There is sadness here-scrolling through his address book, he realizes how many dear friends are now deceased-but also delight: he revels in authors' biographies, the malapropism that becomes a decades-long inside joke, and pair of well-made cotton underpants. He is bitten by a dog. A train passenger vomits in his face. A woman on the street late at night either sexually harasses him or doesn't. Look how hard it is to be alive! Throughout these essays-at once acerbic and tender, playful and profound-Sedaris shows how much there ...