#i did however get several little bowls from thrift stores. love me a little bowl!!!

[coquelicoq]

drove around for nine hours today and encountered NO open strawberry stands. in full strawberry season...in farm country...on a SATURDAY. what on god's green hhhhearth

[ghostingnovel]

Chapter Two

“Daddy, do you know what I’m thinking?”

Sammi had escaped her thirteenth birthday party and sat behind her house, clutching a birthday candle she’d stolen from her cake. The candle flickered, annoyed.

Of course I can. I live in your mind.

“Okay, what am I thinking then?”

The candle sighed – a very peculiar thing for a candle to do – before replying, You’re very happy that your father is able to be here for your birthday party.

“And? What else am I thinking?”

… And you love your father, very much. Even though I am dead.

Sammi smiled, holding the candle tightly – before suddenly dropping it, startled by the hot wax dripping onto her finger. She let out an anguished cry as the candle extinguished on the ground. She hurriedly picked the candle back up, trying to wipe dirt from the hot, sticky wax, even if it burned a little.

“Dad? I’m so, so sorry,” she frantically apologized, “Are you alright?”

Of course I’m alright, Samantha. My essence isn’t contained in a silly candle. Now, get back to your party, the voice responded. After a moment, it added, But Samantha?

“Yeah, dad?”

I love you too. Happy birthday.

It didn’t matter that Sammi lived directly above her uncle’s bar; she still managed to be late to work.

“Hey Samantha, I could use a hand down here you know,” Uncle Sam’s voice called up to her, followed by the muffled voices of patrons that were already strolling in at ten AM. Sammi quickly swished her mouthwash, spat, and shouted back.

“Be down in a minute. Do you know where my hair dryer is?”

“Check your brother’s room. You have five minutes.”

Sammi cursed, stubbed her toe on her way to her brother’s room, cursed again, and immediately found her hair dryer on her brother’s nightstand. Finding it wasn’t hard, as her brother’s room was neatly organized and the bright blue hair dryer was the only thing that didn’t match. Her brother's room was as neat and well put-together as her brother was as a person. He had even found time to make his bed before he left this morning.

Sammi scowled at her comparative inferiority and returned to the bathroom to dry her hair.

By all accounts, despite being almost twenty-six, Sammi didn’t look like someone who should be working at a bar. Everyone assumed that the accident her father died in had somehow stunted her growth, but whatever the cause, it had left Sammi at just a hair over five feet, with facial features that made most people ask where she went to high school. It didn’t help that her ghost problem had left her chronically pale and chronically thin – not pale and thin in the pretty way, but more "The Fault in Our Stars". Polite people called her "petite" and "youthful", but she heard the words “waifish” and “sickly” thrown around enough that she knew better. Once her hair was dry she padded on some blush with a fat makeup brush, but it didn’t do much to help her complexion.

Besides giving off the impression that she might snap in half if the wind blew a little too hard, Sammi had two features that were noticeable: Her hair and her eyes. Her hair was noticeable by choice, dyed a shade of pastel pink that she’d been sporting since her mother had been alive. She kept it pink because her mother used to dye it this color while Sammi was still in elementary school, and after her mother’s death Sammi continued to wear the pink as a memento. Sammi's natural hair color was probably some shade of blonde similar to her brother’s, but she couldn’t remember it at this point.

Her second prominent feature, and the feature she hated the most, were her eyes. One iris was a normal, albeit sharp, shade of icy blue that she shared with her uncle; the other was black. Not black as in "a dark shade of brown" black, but black as in "doesn't reflect light" black and "there is no visible distinction between the iris and the pupil" black. She used to have two blue eyes. She also used to be able to turn off her powers. The black eye, and the powers that never turned off, and the dozens of short, pale scars on her hands and arms, were the parting gifts of the fire.

In any case, her mismatched eyes made people very unlikely to maintain eye contact with her for very long. Even her uncle and brother would usually look away rather quickly. Only the Reaper Diana didn’t seem perturbed by her eyes, which was one of the many reasons that Sammi liked her so much. A family friend had gifted Sammi with a medical eye patch to help Sammi get through school without being bullied too badly, but it itched and destroyed Sammi's depth perception, so she hadn't worn it much recently.

“Samantha Eliana Gwendolyn Parish, if you’re not down here in sixty seconds, I’m docking your pay,” her uncle’s voice called up the stairs again, louder this time.

"That's only a threat if you start paying me," Sammi shouted back. Still, she didn't like being late. She tossed her mostly dry hair into a pastel bun on top of her head, rushed to her room for a moment to put on a stray t-shirt from the floor, and sprinted down the stairs.

“Oh, look who finally joined us,” Uncle Sam greeted. “However," he added, pointing down at her feet, "You’re still wearing your slippers.”

Dammit.

By noon the little pub was already half full, the nocturnal types getting their drinks in before going home to sleep the afternoon away. This was commonplace. After all, there were few places in the city limits that serviced non-humans. At midday the bar was filled with vampires, ghouls, and all sorts of magical folk who worked night jobs nearby. They passed Sammi as they entered: She was out front, reattaching the welcome sign that had been knocked out of place by a very tall and probably drunk patron.

Probably a giant, Sammi guessed. Or a werewolf. Regardless of who or what, the sign was knocked down enough that Sammi wondered frequently and loudly why her uncle didn’t just affix the damn thing above the door like a normal shop owner, but her uncle claimed the hanging sign provided “ambiance”, whatever that meant. Sammi knew her uncle was just too cheap to buy a new sign. Still, he’d have to soon – the first S in “Schrodinger’s Beer” was about ready to fall off, and the thing hadn’t lit up properly in ages.

“Did the sign fall off again? We ought to get that thing fixed above the door.”

At the sound of the voice, Sammi put down the battered sign and the hammer she was holding and waved. She also used the opportunity to wipe flaking paint and grease off her hands with a napkin she’d snagged from inside.

“Yeah, well, tell your fellow co-owner that," Sammi sighed, "He might actually listen to you.”

Jonathan Graves, the co-owner of Schrodinger’s Beer and Uncle Sam's longest business partner, was a bear of a man, tall enough that Sammi might have suspected him of knocking down the sign if the man wasn’t so careful. Despite his hulking appearance, Graves was quietly polite, fastidiously organized, and was the main reason that the bar hadn’t gone under ages ago. Sammi’s uncle was excellent at bringing customers in, but it was Graves who really handled all the details.

Graves also had a missing eye, and a story to go with it that changed every time someone asked. Between the eye, his general aura of intimidation, and his incredible attention to detail, Sammi had a theory that he was probably ex-mafia, but she never bothered asking. Over the years she and Graves had bonded over the fact that no one could look either of them in the eye for any length of time. They even had staring contests sometimes, when the bar was less busy.

Graves made the expression of a man doing very advanced math in his mind before nodding quietly to himself. He gestured for Sammi to set the sign aside.

“Leave that for now. I think it’s about time we ordered a new one, anyway. We have the profits. Is your uncle inside?”

“Of course, Jamie too," Sammi replied, smiling wryly, "Where else do you think we’d all be on a Monday afternoon?”

Entering Schrodinger’s Bar was a lot like entering a seasonal Halloween store. You see, while Uncle Sam didn’t have magical talent himself, he enjoyed surrounding himself with it; he also was a master of satire and loved cheap, kitschy things and overused stereotypes. The bar was the embodiment of the above ideals: it had broomsticks propped against the entryway, accompanied by smiling ceramic pumpkins and plastic knee-high gravestones ; cobwebs in the corners that he claimed were fake but probably weren’t; several ugly paintings of witches, werewolves, and vampires that he found in a clearance rack at the local thrift store; and, of course, an abundance of candles - that weren’t actually candles, but rather remote controlled replicas that could be activated at the push of a button. The finishing touch was the bar’s mascot, Schrodinger, a black cat that was very large in height, fluff, and girth. He wandered between the tables freely, meowing and acting as the bar’s janitor by eating any food that fell on the floor. He was very good at his job.

Schrodinger greeted them with a yowl when they walked in, purring loudly and nearly bowling Sammi over when he collided with her legs. Sammi knelt to pet the massive feline before he trotted off again. Sammi watched as he found his way under a nearby table, where he curled up under the chair of a very large, very ugly man who was sloppily eating a burger.

Halfling, probably, Sammi guessed, sizing up the man. On his way to being a troll. To Schrodinger he was merely an excellent food source.

“Sammi!”

Sammi was almost bowled over again, from the other direction, as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her up in a bear hug. She laughed, struggling only half-heartedly against the attack.

“Put me down you dumbass, we’re at work,” she chided. She was quickly returned to the floor, her hair was ruffled, and the person who had grabbed her smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I just was excited to see you.”

“You’re always excited to see everyone, Jamie. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re just always excited in general.”

James Parish, Sammi’s younger, but significantly bigger, brother, was a constantly smiling, blonde haired, blue-eyed man who would probably be mistaken for a prince if he ever set foot in Disneyland. In his early twenties, James was too young to remember his and Sammi’s parents in any detail. He couldn’t remember their deaths, either. Sammi guessed that was why he was everything Sammi wasn’t: Happy, healthy, attractive, charismatic, and entirely non-magical.

Sammi loved her brother. She also had a tiny, jealous, bitter part of her soul that couldn't stand him, and especially hated how inferior he made her feel simply by existing. This was a part of herself that she zealously hid – but hiding it still didn’t suppress the gnawing shame.

To Sammi, the worst part was that, if she ever told James about how she felt, he’d probably just forgive her. He was that kind of person.

She gave James another hug, pushing away the unpleasant thoughts.

“So Sammi, did you get the sign out front fixed?” James asked, resting his chin on top of her head. He still had to lean over a bit to do so. Sammi shook her head a little.

“Nah. Graves said that the sign is too far gone.”

“Oh, finally? I thought we were going to be stuck with that ugly thing until this place closes down. Which I don’t see happening for quite a while.”

“Right? But Graves said we’ve made enough profits to get a better sign. I’m pretty excited to not have to fix it every week.”

“Good," Jamie said, and Sammi could hear the grin in his voice, "that means that you’ll have more time to bus tables and serve customers.”

Uncle Sam appeared behind both of them, dressed in a suit, a tie, a hideous hat, and carrying a very overfilled bin of dirty dishes. He passed this plate to Sammi, pointing to the back room where the sink resided.

“Sibling moments are good for business and all, but I’ve got two orders to fill and these to clean. Get back to work, you’re still on the clock.”

Sammi sighed, taking the bin obediently with a nod. Still, as she walked to the kitchen she quietly beckoned Schrodinger. He was thrilled to help clean the plates.

You would already be done with these dishes if you’d use your magic to clean them.

“I prefer to clean them by hand. It relaxes me.”

You promised, Samantha. Practice.

Sammi made a face, sure he could see her just fine even if she couldn't see him. If he had seen her, though, he didn't say anything - just waited patiently. He kept waiting until Sammi grudgingly relented.

"Yes, sir," she sighed, setting the plate and the sponge she was holding aside. She closed her eyes. She breathed.

Using magic was a lot like flipping a sock inside out. First, Sammi reached within to herself, mentally searching and grabbing onto a pinprick of power that she could feel lodged deep within her chest. It felt... kinetic, two magnets pushing away from each other. She grabbed the slippery thing, focusing on holding it by picturing her hand wrapping around it entirely, and pulled it outward.

The magic flipped, now pushing outside her body and attracting things outside of her, inward. Sammi could sense the dishes, the air, the water in the sink, the water pipes below her feet and running through the walls, as if each item had a magnetic charge that pulled all of them toward her chest; she could sense Schrodinger, sitting alert at her side and watching her intently with his giant eyes and quick, tiny heartbeat. She tested each of them, gauging the pressure and the weight of everything. She singled out each of the dishes, the soapy water, and the water coursing through the pipes around her. She breathed again.

Then she pulled on the water in the sink and the dishes, while simultaneously pushing back on the pipes to keep the outside water at bay.

The lights flickered. The dishes spun, getting faster, wrapped in a thin sheath of soapy water until they sparkled and shined. Sammi felt her heart pound faster, thrilled that she was able to maintain, one, then four, then eight micro-spells at once. Once they were clean Sammi began to heat the air, spinning it, using it to dry the dishes she had just cleaned.

Then Schrodinger yowled.

Her concentration collapsed. Sammi cursed, but her words were lost in the sound of crashing dinnerware shattering on the floor. She caught six of the pieces before they fell, quickly throwing out a levitation spell, but a plate and a glass met the hard tile and sent ceramic and glass scattering dangerously over the kitchen floor. Her uncle was there in an instant, quickly throwing open the kitchen door but smart enough to stop before stepping on the glass.

“Aw, hell – James, get the broom, would’ja?” Uncle Sam called, pulling the large black cat out of the wreckage. The cat yowled again. Blushing furiously and tears stinging her eyes, Sammi shook her head, gesturing to her uncle.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can clean it myself,” Sammi insisted, but her uncle waved her off.

“It’s fine, just let Jamie sweep it up. What all was broken?”

“A glass and a plate.”

“That’s not too bad. That’s replaceable and pretty cheap.”

Uncle Sam thought for a moment, but stopped to glance at Sammi, flashing a reassuring smile. It just made Sammi feel worse.

“Hey, no crying sweetheart. It’s fine, honest. Just a couple dumb dishes,” he assured, hefting the large, still agitated cat. “You hurt at all, pumpkin?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s all that matters. Now come out of there, I don’t want you getting cut on any glass.”

Sammi could feel the eyes of the patrons staring at her as she came out. She felt a sudden burst of rage, a desire to cast out a burst of force magic and send them all flying into the walls, just to get their eyes off her. But that was stupid. After all, she wasn’t angry at them. She was just angry at herself, and that she’d broken concentration because of a damn cat.

James passed her with a large broom of the non-witchy variety, flashing a broad smile before going into the kitchen.

“Hey Sammi, besides the glass, things look amazing in here! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this clean,” he called over his shoulder.

Sammi wanted to be dead.

The disgruntled little witch sat behind the bar and made drinks for the rest of the night. After normal work hours, the place got its second rush: it filled with a pack of werewolves in construction uniforms creased with dirt, witches from various local covens dressed in business attire, fae and changelings with inhuman grace who settled down with flowery drinks and vegan dishes, some more humane vampires settling down with pigs blood and the expressions of those who just got out of bed, and countless others that drifted in and out of the bar for a respite from mundane human society. Eventually a group of Paragons, the police of the magical world, came in and settled down at a large table with glasses of beer and a couple large pizzas. James joined them immediately, pulling up a chair and quickly joining their conversation.

“That boy is still jonesing to be a Paragon one day,” Uncle Sam sighed as he picked up a couple drink orders from Sammi’s station. “That’s gotta be rough. They’ve still never let someone who was non-magical join – too dangerous.”

“Yeah, well if anyone could be the first, it’s Jamie,” Sammi shrugged.

“You ever think about joining them? You could be good at it, you know. And it’d give you a way to hang out with more magic types.”

“Me? A Paragon? Hardly. Besides, I’m too scrawny. I’d get broken in half.”

Her uncle barked out a laugh. "That's probably true."

The real reason Sammi had never become a Paragon was because it required extremely rigorous magical screening, and Sammi’s father had warned that the process would lead to him being severed and reaped. Young Sammi had desperately not wanted that to happen. Then, by the time her and her father’s relationship had deteriorated to the point she wouldn’t mind being severed from her father, Sammi was generally too sickly and too nervous about using her ectomancy to try out. She also assumed that she would be under-qualified.

Besides, most of the Paragons she knew she’d met through the investigation of her father’s death, and she didn’t like the look they gave her. It was too much like pity.

“Hey, earth to Sammi. Get out of your damn head, you’re slowing down on the drinks.”

Sammi scowled, quickly pulling up several more beers before starting to mix some bizarre mixed drink containing elderflower.

“You know, it’s funny. I always assumed that you’d end up being the Paragon or whatever,” Uncle Sam said nonchalantly, coming behind the counter to grab the drinks. “But that’s probably just my bias talking.”

Sammi looked up at her Uncle. “Watch it now, you’re not saying that I’m your favorite child? Jamie would be heartbroken.”

“Of course not, that’s favoritism. But when your dad and I were growing up, he was always the one who was better at everything, so I guess I just assumed the things would be the same with you two,” Uncle Ben sighed, holding the beers on a tray and leaning against the counter, “You know, the kid without the magic getting the short end of the stick and all.”

“Hey, you calling me a failure old man?”

“I'm not, but you are. Oh, don’t give me that, I’ve seen the way you look at James when he’s not looking,” her Uncle snapped, giving her a knowing glare that stoppered the words in her throat before she had the chance to create a comeback. “It’s the same look I gave your dad when the two of us were growing up.

"Look, Pumpkin,” her Uncle continued quietly, leaning a bit closer, “I saw your face today after the dumb thing with the dishes. Honestly I’m just proud that you’re using complex magic again, to hell with a couple plates. So stop being so damn hard on yourself. You’re doing good. And you don’t need to be so jealous of your brother – I’ve been there, and it’s not a good feeling. You’ve just gotta find your niche, you know?”

Uncle Sam straightened up as some of the werewolves began to howl, clearly impatient for the beers Sam was holding. Uncle Sam winked.

“Give yourself a break, kid. You’re doing just fine.”

Sammi felt a little happy, a little sad, and a little offended for the unsolicited advice. She liked to pretend that no one else was aware of her failings.

I’m aware of them too, you know, her father’s voice whispered into her mind nonchalantly.

“Oh, shut up dad.”

Your spellcasting was actually superb today, you know. You are very talented. The complexity with dealing with a city watermain while casting multiple micro-spells is hardly insubstantial. If you simply hone your concentration –

“Dad. Please shut up.”

“You say something, pumpkin?” her Uncle Sam turned from the werewolf pack he was joking with. Sammi waved and shook her head.

“No, everything’s great over here,” Sammi assured. She flashed a smile and vividly imagined killing her father a second time.

That’s rather impolite of you. I was trying to give you a compliment.

“I don’t want your damn compliment,” Sammi responded - under her breath this time.

Fine. In that case, when do you plan on searching for my pocket watch?

“I’ll stop by the precinct after work. They probably have it in evidence.”

Good. Have a lovely day at work, Samantha.

With that the voice in her head went silent, and she was once again alone with her thoughts. The bar seemed oddly loud after that.

“Hey Sammi, hit us with a couple more beers!” James called, still sitting happily – and possibly a little drunkenly – with the Paragons, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the young man next to him who was also grinning. “And maybe another order of fries!”

“Coming right up!” Sammi shouted back. She pulled out some beers, slipped back into the kitchen, nodded at Graves who was taking inventory, and got to work, drowning out everything else with the sound of boiling water. As she worked, she thought about going to the precinct later that day, surprised to realize that it had been almost three years since she’d last visited.

A drop of hot water hit her hand as she dropped the fries into it and she reflexively pulled back, her heart immediately beginning to pound. That was stupid, it was just water. She relaxed, returning to her work.

Still though, especially when she was going back to the precinct, the feeling of the burning water lingered. It brought back the memories of when her dad died: the months of police officers and Paragons investigating the remnants of her home, and the weeks after that her hands had been wrapped in bandages while she healed from burns that ran from her fingers up her arms.

She knew that it was all in her head – she’d been healed by the best medical magicians and mundane doctors in the city, after all – but at times like this, her palms still itched.

“Just find the stupid watch, Samantha,” she whispered to herself, dunking the fries into the water again. “Find the watch, and you can finally leave this all behind you.”

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The Fabulous Home 17 Cheap Ways to Decorate A Room

I read an article on Pinterest last week that defined six types of entrepreneurs. I wasn’t surprised to find myself falling into several of the categories as I’m undoubtedly a Gemini and am creative to my core. Basically, the article defined me as 1) the creative (super shock factor there, right?) 2) the curator (was wondering about the proper term for this type of person) and 3) the entertainer.

**This post contains affiliate links**

Sometimes we dabble in the”teacher” type of entrepreneur here on LiWBF too (See the Bloggerly Life series for confirmation) I don’t consider myself to be on that level of entrepreneurship just yet. However, the “service style” is yet another area that I’m about to explore as I find more ways to make a full-time living doing what I love the most…being creative. At the end of the day, all six personalities had one thing in common…they’re all creators in some way, which brings me to this subject of this article.

Designers don’t have a secret to what we do. We just reach into that creative well of productivity and go from there. I’d love to tell you that there’s a process to my ability to create gorgeous flower arrangements; or to write stories that feel so real the scenery whisks you away to another place and time. Even the design of Live Well Be Fabulous came from inside that creative pool in my head. The best explanation I can offer is the universal notion that we’re all creatives in some way…whether it’s an author penning her next fantasy saga or an accountant who has created a system of analysis that will benefit the company in some productive financial way.

Guidance is the key to unlocking that creative gene, a suggestive blueprint of tips that will help lead you to the results you want. This edition of the Fabulous Home offers several tips and pointers that will guide you in the right direction and stimulate your creativity while doing so. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Storage and organization make up only one aspect of homemaking; while organizing the design elements of a room calls for another skill set. I’m in the process of taking on a project that will refresh the look of my entire home. Note: I didn’t use the word “redesign” because I’m still in love with the Mediterranean style I chose. And that first project took place ten years ago. However, the dingy mauve-colored carpet needs to be replaced, and the converted garage needs to be finished. It’s time to freshen up and reinvigorate my home.

The following 17 tips will walk you through several ways to tackle a room refresh project. You can apply these principles to any space in your home as well. Enjoy!

1. Remove clutter. Yes, I went right ahead and put this as the first tip. Why? Because decluttering your home is so super important. Less junk lying around makes it easy to jump in and get started with a room makeover. Need a few tips to help you get started? No worries. LiWBF’s got you covered in 5 Things To Eliminate From Your Home.

2. Rearrange existing decoration. You can move your favorite items to a new table and instantly change your space. This coming spring (about the time when I tend to get hit with my redecorating urge) I’m going to move my wall paintings around. Some will go to new rooms and others will be donated. I’m looking forward to seeing the result.

3. Create an accent wall. However, make sure you choose a small wall or maybe even a nook. Go ahead and try that misted purple shade you’ve been eyeballing for the longest time. Buy a sample of your chosen color and paint a small 3X3 square somewhere on the wall. If you find you don’t like the result, then you can easily change it back. I do this in my bedroom when I’m ready to change the theme. You learn a lot by living with a color over a seven-day to two-week time frame.

4. Focus on a new color scheme. Use the style of your current decorations as inspiration by replacing them with similar objects in different colors. A good example is those decorative bamboo balls that we’ve all stacked in a bowl and sat on our tables at some point. Seven years ago, these babies were the darlings of room design. Nowadays… not so much. The good news is that the decorative balls now come in sparkling, artsy, matte, and textured versions. See the widget below.

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5. Don’t be afraid of color. Use your favorite color throughout your home. And no, you don’t have to limit this tip to painting an accent wall. Especially if your favorite color runs on the wild side (mine is royal purple). Start by refinishing a coffee table or night stand. This winter, I’ll be white washing an old mahogany colored bedroom set I’ve had for years. The new furniture will look spectacular when paired with the lilac gray shade I’ve chosen for the walls.

6. Renters can add large photos to bare walls that have tons of color. Photos are a super quick and easy way to freshen up any room. I’ve included a widget of ideas for you to gush over.

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7. Change your throw pillows. This doesn’t have to be expensive. See the widget below this tip#10 for proof! :)

8.  Make a color scrapbook. The colors on the walls of my house have several names. And even though we did an excellent job of painting the walls, we’re now facing the touch-up dilemma. My color scrapbook helps me return to the home store with paint names in hand. Home Depot keeps all the colors in their database even if it’s not a current or featured shade. Super convenient, right?

9. Buy fancy scented candles and knock out two design ideas in one awesome glass or box. Candles come in many creative cases these days.

10. Place baskets of small throw pillows on fireplaces and corners that need a little TLC.

!function(doc,s,id){ var e, p, cb; if(!doc.getElementById(id)) { e = doc.createElement(s); e.id = id; cb = new Date().getTime().toString(); p = '//shopsensewidget.shopstyle.com/widget-script.js?cb=1487808900010?cb=' + cb; e.src = p; doc.body.appendChild(e); } if(typeof window.ss_shopsense === 'object'){ if(doc.readyState === 'complete'){ window.ss_shopsense.init(); } } }(document, 'script', 'shopsensewidget-script');

11. Use wall stencils. I cannot express in words the superfabulousness of these babies.

12. Take a thrift store adventure. I found most of my Mediterranean style artwork in thrift shops and while crashing yard sales. Remember, you’re going for decorative elements that show your unique taste and not the HGTV award for home of the year. Although the thought of receiving praise for the best design award wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

13. Add your favorite lifestyle elements. I chose to add a mini library to my living room.

14. Clean your carpets. Shampoo them until they squeak. Mop your hardwood floors. Apply conditioner to make them sparkle and shine. Seriously folks. A clean floor works wonders for both an old and new room’s soul.

15.  Add a bouquet arrangement. Organizing a gorgeous collection of eye-catching flowers is a lot easier than you think. Just take a peek at our Super Cute Series if you need a bit of inspiration.

16. Don’t try to do everything at once. You will overwhelm yourself and ultimately fail.Tackle one section of the room at a time.

17. Sign up for the LiWBF Fab Five email list and get free decorating tips each month.

Do you have any other tips you’d like to add to this list? We wanna hear them. Sound out in the comments section below!

**The post the Fabulous Home 17 Cheap Ways to Decorate A Room first appeared on Live Well…Be Fabulous on 2/22/17**

The Fabulous Home 17 Cheap Ways to Decorate A Room The Fabulous Home 17 Cheap Ways to Decorate A Room I read an article on Pinterest last week that defined six types of entrepreneurs.