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Joy with the nice even coats of primer and the pristine surface of the car was squelched when she returned home and smelled - PAINT! It was, truly, not a good smell. And even though I'd become somewhat inured over the past hours, it was not a welcome home smell, by any means. In the end, we all got over it - some a little quicker than others, but the question about where the color would be applied seemed to be moot. Home painting was not an option, decreed with the fire and conviction of Joan of Arc. As the memory of the bad odors faded in my mind, I wavered again, thinking it might be possible to finesse another time. My wife has a sister in a distant city; the neighbor can't spend all summer by the pool, they have to have a vacation. But I kept talking to the paint store guys, and to area painters.