Fancy Free Fridays.

Gather round.

Yesterday was an ugly, dreary day in the northeast. It was 85 one day and 60 degrees the next.

After assuming the role of Alice from the Brady Bunch I cleaned and cooked, went grocery shopping, walked the dog, did laundry and then turned in my apron for a swimsuit and swam 100 laps in the pool.

I was in desperate need of a horizontal mindless activity.

I texted my daughter and she told me to binge watch Season 4 of Below Deck Down Under on Peacock and Bravo.

I stretched out and turned on the TV.

Despite the fact that I have missed several seasons, it was comforting to dive into a familiar structure of a Below Deck franchise season.

Such mindless fun, a luxury yacht occupied by guests with the emotional maturity of overcooked scallops and a crew held together by an overabundance of alcohol, sexual tension, and untreated childhood trauma.

Season 4 of Below Deck Down Under has somehow managed to raise the bar by lowering it directly into the ocean.

Meanwhile Daisy, João, Ben, Jenna, Alesia, Mike, Eddie, Ellie, Barbie and the rest of the floating hormonal support group spend most episodes rotating between flirting, fighting, crying in a bunk bed or spiraling over a perceived slight involving laundry, eye contact, or someone using the wrong tone while carrying champagne.

Chef Ben behaves like a Michelin-starred pirate who was raised entirely by criticism. Every meal service feels one whole salt encrusted fish away from a complete psychological collapse yet somehow the guests still applaud his cuisine as if he cured polio with truffle oil.

And the guests. Dear God, the guests.

Nothing prepares you for the alleged wealthy people on charter demanding foam, fireworks, synchronized table décor, and a seven-course tasting menu while dressed like they lost a bet at a Miami nightclub.

What makes Below Deck Down Under so addictive is that it perfectly captures modern immature, all about me, adulthood.

Still, I watch every episode with the commitment of a scholar studying human collapse in controlled nautical conditions.

No amount of luxury can save people from themselves.

When you are exhausted and the rain is assaulting your home, it is joyfully beneficial to regress back to high school romances fraught with idiotic, immature, traumatic, tear soaked issues…you must tune in.

Enjoy the long holiday weekend.

See you on Tuesday.