We have a faucet at work in one of the restrooms that hates me. This is a sort of binary tap; it runs either:
1) Icy, North Atlantic, Titanic just sank out from under me, bitterly deep-space cold.
2) Smoking, three-alarm, hand-scalding, lobster boiling hot.
There is no compromise. Oh, I have tried. You can occasionally get it right smack in between the two extremes, but even then you can feel the violent mixing, as the two enemy-temperatures fight it out on your skin.
