I loved the idea and am taking it a bit further. Hence my description of a typical morning . . .
7:30(ish) am--Reluctantly leave the tempting embrace of Morpheus and begin my day. Swallow Mystic Pill of Ambient Energy, infuse eyes with Drops of Seeing, perform ritual stretches.
Visit Temple of Bast and ensure that her Avatars have the prescribed offerings of Holy Kibble and Blessed Springwater. Do ritual cleansing of Sacred Litter Box, bag nocturnal deposits and place in the Circular Shrine of Refuse.
Descend to the Nether Room where the Machine of Whirling Cleansing awaits the soiled garments of yesterday. Garments in machine, add the Magickal Jeweled Packet of Purity and invoke the power of the Machine with a carefully calibrated spin of the dial. Hear the water pour in, fresh from its trip through a maze of mystical piping from the Dark Underworld..
As the machine begins to churn, ascend the stairs and proceed to the next Ritual of the Morning--Tribute to the Crow Queen. Her minions are everywhere and they are impatient.
Greet my consort who has procured Magical Beans from far off lands and brewed them to produce the Elixir of Wakefulness, which he places, steaming in a mug, at my side.
Journey into the Magical Web, wherein much that is true and much that is false can be found. Also many images of Bast's Avatars. Must use caution as the Web is sticky and many a poor soul has been lost there, forever prisoner in its silken promises.
Seek Iron Rations to break my fast then proceed to the Marketplace to lay in more provisions. My carriage is drawn by invisible horses, summoned by a simple twist of the All Important Key and obedient to the slightest urging on my part.
At the market, I don my Mask of Protection as the Plague still rages and there be many fools who have not availed themselves of the Saving Needle.
Inside, I can chose from the wares of many lands--tropical fruits from Colombia, olives from the Grecian Island, cheese from Spain, and cherries from across our continent--Wenatchee, Washington. I can even purchase a Magical Powder to perfume the Sacred Litterbox of Bast. I stand ready to haggle with the woman demanding payment but she refuses, bidding me to Have a nice day.
Crossing the bridge as I make my way home, I see a band of hardy adventurers setting off for the perilous voyage downstream. I mutter a charm that their voyage may be safe and they may avoid the fearsome Dakwa that has drowned many a traveler.
Yep, I like this way of looking at life. Speaking as one who spent several years pretending to ride a horse everywhere I went and hanging out with the Lone Ranger and Tonto, I have no problem jazzing up reality.