My expert here was Pythagoras. Of course, most of his advice was really allegorical, with the explanations being known to those initiated into his mystery cult, but I decided to follow it all - literally. For those watching at home, the Pythagorean Maxims can be found here,

Make the bed as soon as ye arise, leaving no imprint of thy body. That was the first instruction I had to worry about. I got up - before noon, of course, as a further instruction reads "Do not sleep at noon" - and immediately made my bed.

I took a shower (being sure to wash my left foot first), brushed my teeth, shaved, and spat in the sink, obeying the injunction to spit upon the clippings of thy nails, and on the trimmings of thy hair. I knew I'd be coming back to that one, since picking at my nails is a nervous habit of mine.

Next it was time for some cooking. Knowing that cake as we know it wasn't around in Pythagoras' day, I looked up ancient Roman (couldn't find ancient Greek) precursors to it. I found a recipe for something much like pancakes, but it called for eggs, and one of my instructions is to eat not the womb of animals, which I'm pretty sure means those are verboten. Dairy's alright, though so I went with a modern option - I made biscuits. This required going to the grocery store for buttermilk, so I took a lengthier-than-necessary path to the store so as to go not by the popular route. (Historical note: the actual Pythagoreans didn't eat eggs. Whether or not this was because they were the womb of an animal or because of another rule not on the list I used, I do not know. Their predecessors, the Orphists, didn't eat eggs because they took them to be a holy symbol of the cosmos. Both were vegetarians, though not vegans.)

The grocery store frowns on going lincoln, so I wore sandals there - which is fine with me, as I needed some excuse to obey the other half of the maxim to put on thy right shoe first, and wash the left foot first. I did. Needless to say, I was sure to eat not in the chariot, although I did drink a soda.

Then I baked. I cleaned up everything immediately, so as to leave not the least imprint of the pot upon the ashes - or, in this case, upon the light dusting of flour that gets all over the counter.

Finally I made my sacrifices. I offered the gods a libation of orange juice - one small pour each, except for the infernal gods who got two (as you should to the celestial gods offer an odd number of oblations, but to the infernal an even) and the god I almost left out, who got three to apologize for having blanked on who the twelfth Olympian was (answer: Artemis). I didn't know how to do a traditional Hellenic sacrifice, but that didn't matter - Pythagoras spells it all out for us. Aside from the aforementioned thing about the number of sacrifices, I was to:

Adore the deities, and sacrifice bare foot, which is fine by me as I like being barefoot;
Offer not to the deities the wine of an unpruned vine, which is why I gave them juice;
Sit down when ye worship, so I sat in a chair while making my offerings;
Turn around when ye worship, so it was a swivel chair and I spun around in it while libating;
Make thy libations by the ear, which is why I held the goblet of orange juice beside my ear when sacrificing;
Never sacrifice without cakes, hence the biscuits; and
Pare not thy nails during the sacrifice, which I didn't.

Then I ate the cakes with some butter. A drip of butter landed on the seat, and I was unsure what to do - on the one hand, clearly I should clean it up, for as Pythagoras sternly warns, "Do not spill oil on the seat." But - it is a horrible crime to wipe off the seat with iron! What was I to do? (Answer: I used a rag.)

Later, I had a few more things to do before I could call it a day. For one, I still had to honor symbols of dignity, the throne, and the ternary. Per Ben Yameen's suggestion, I decided that the ternary was comprised of those three things whose symbols I must honor. "But," I asked him, "what could symbolize the set of itself, a toilet, and dignity?" Peter Garnett suggested a cape for no good reason other than that it made sense to him, and since the traditional Greek chlamys (which many real Pythagoreans would have worn in their daily lives) is basically a type of cape I changed into one (hastily improvised using a bedsheet, which matches its proportions far better than the toga sheets are often conscripted to play) and knelt before a very dignified emblem which I had affixed to a toilet. (For the record, it stayed there until the toilet was next cleaned about a week later.)

Subsequently it came to be dinnertime. I was a little nervous about this part of the day - I had decided to do this today specifically on the spur of the moment and thus hadn't warned my family, which meant I needed to watch out for possible violations of the requirement to abstain from the flesh of animals. But what, exactly, is an animal? Sometimes we use it to mean any non-human lifeform that is neither microscopic nor a plant, sometimes anything in Animalia, sometimes it is contrasted with fish (particularly in older contexts) and on some occasions it is even contrasted with birds as well. The etymology of the English word is from Latin "anima", meaning spirit or soul, which is traditionally not ascribed to fish. In Greek, the word refers to things with life, although Aristotle specifically divided living things into plants and animals - although his inclusion of fish in the latter category was not totally uncontroversial.

I honestly don't know whether the ancient Pythagoreans ate fish or not, but I decided that for the purpose of this praxis fish and shellfish counted as non-animal, but everything else that meets the modern scientific definition was an animal. As we ate pizza, and I opted for plain cheese, this was a moot point, so I was in the clear. I did have to watch myself - care had to be taken to feed not thyself with thy left hand, something most westerners are unused to doing. As it happens, my avoidance of eggs and meat was sufficient to mean I had successfully fulfilled the massive number of dietary proscriptions for the day - eating no meat means you automatically abstain from flesh of animals that die of themselves, for instance.

Certain rules didn't require any active effort, such as the requirement to abstain from voting with beans or do not primp by torchlight, but except for the tiny mishap with the butter I didn't break a single one of these commands. Unless you count my failure to sow any mallows - although, in keeping with the primary message of that one, I didn't eat any either.