Dome Ceilings, Sample Lights, and the Rafters Drink Their Stain

Day fifty-seven. The day the ceilings got their moods — plastic domes in the wet rooms, oiled timber everywhere else.

The dome goes up. Korean bathrooms typically close with a dome ceiling — a molded moisture-proof shell that installs as panels. With the electrician’s help, the annex bathroom’s dome went in: the main field panels seated easily; the final infill piece, less so — its fit demanded persuasion. The knowledge transfers immediately: the main bathroom’s dome, we install ourselves. The master bathroom gets a different answer entirely — its ceiling demolition exposed sandwich panel with little height to spare, so waterproof plasterboard directly over it, skipping the dome that would compress the room.

Light audition. Six sample downlights went into the living room and kitchen light-boxes — a deliberate test batch, to be judged after dark before we commit to ordering the full set. Lighting is the one finish you can only evaluate at night.

Water finds its level, again. Bathroom progress continued its unglamorous essentials: the main bathroom’s floor needed raising in the basin-and-toilet zone — a consequence of our deep excavation — so brick and leveling mortar built the fall back toward the drain before floor tile. The annex tub started its tile coat over the cured Gomas.

The rafters, at last. And the emotional headline: oil stain onto the interior timber. Preparation first — masking, then the discovery that a damp cloth lifts most cement splatter before sanding is even needed (sand only the stubborn spots; every wipe saves grinding). Then walnut-pine stain, brushed into rafters, beams, and purlins — 85% of the exposed structure, half a liter used. Watching seventy-year-old wood drink the stain and turn deep and warm — the color we tested toward for weeks — is the single most gratifying brushstroke of this entire project.