Sundays: I will go out and worship the sun. As I understand it, this means I must sacrifice a king and wait for him to be resurrected. This is problematic as there aren't all that many kings left. I suppose I could always sacrifice some in effigy, but that would involve making puppets. Solution: Every Sunday I'll read a chapter of a George RR Martin book. There are lots of kings in there and they keep dying. Bam.
Mondays: On the Moon's Day, I will sacrifice cheese. That is to say, I will eat some cheese. Deliberately. With reverence aforethought. I like swiss. And provolone.
Tuesdays: This is another problematic day, as it venerates the one-handed god Tiw. He sacrificed his right hand to the wolf Fenrir. I'm not going to do that. However, in memory of Tiw, I will masturbate left-handed every Tuesday. The things I do to keep the Tiw in Tiw's Day.
Wednesdays: Wodan is a bit harder to revere properly. I don't want to end this quickly, so I'm not going to go out and start lynching people left, right, and center, nor yet sacrifice an eye or get pet ravens. As I have two cats, the birds wouldn't last long anyway. His status as a psychopomp* to the English is a bit harder for me to ritualize. I think I'll delve into the etymology for this one. According to wikipedia,
"Old English had the noun wōþ "song, sound", corresponding to Old Norse óðr, which has the meaning "fury" but also "poetry, inspiration". It is possible therefore that *Wōđanaz was seen as a manifestation of ecstasy, associated with mantic states, fury, and poetic inspiration.
Therefor every Wednesday, in honor of that half-blind old bastard, I'll either make a prediction, write a poem, or get really pissed off. Frankly, given things as they are, that last will probably be the easiest.
Thursdays: HIT SOMETHING WITH A FUCKING HAMMER
Fridays: In honor of Frigg, venerated as wife and mother, I'll make it a point to let my mom know I think she's awesome every Friday. Because my mom is awesome, and not just on Fridays.
Saturdays: Huh, Saturn was a god of the harvest and agriculture. No wonder suburban dads mow the lawn every Saturday. That shit is symbolic, yo. I don't have any children to eat and I don't think I'd want to. I also don't particularly want to cut my father into a thousand pieces with a sickle. I could always celebrate a weekly Saturnalia (a fine Southern tradition known as a "cocktail party"), but that might get tiresome. Instead I'll go with the medieval alchemical associations. Scientists are associated with Saturn and with the humor of melancholy, endowing them with sadness and with wisdom. Every Saturday, I'ma get my wisdom on. And be sad and shit.
Take that, you people who take the stuff out of things!
* Psychopomp: Escort to the lands of the dead. Like Anubis or Charon or the Valkyries.