I remember. Sometimes it would run blistering hot, but usually it was ice cold (or pretty close).
Little fingers and a high-pitched voice, calling up, "it's 'lefty-loosey, righty-tighty', right, Daddy?" "That's right, Princess. Do you want me to help you turn it left?" Thick fingers would send forth the water, and that little mouth would be all over me, and there'd be a surge of giggles when her dress got all wet. Then that strong grip would slow it to barely a drip. The voices would fade, and I'd be left with nothing.
I miss water.