The crisp temps in the house combined with the frozen milk did bring back memories of our cottage in the fall, before we owned it. Our cottage was originally owned by my uncle, and while he got the shell of the structure completed, he didn't quite get around to the insulating the walls and adding a ceiling (so there was no insulation in the attic either). This was also in the days before they had run electricity in our neck of the woods, so there were no baseboard heaters (or lights for that matter!)
At the time the cottage was heated by a huge cast iron kitchen stove similar to this:
Of course it didn't matter how much you stuffed it with wood, that sucker wasn't going to last you the entire night. We used to sleep in our snowsuits and double up on the sleeping bags. You never really wanted to be the first one to wake up, because that meant a mad dash through the freezing cold to the stove to get it going. It was much more fun to poke your head out of the sleeping bag and watch your breath.
None of us will forget the morning that we discovered the milk had been left out on the table over night (we had a propane fridge - go figure, fire to make things colder). It wasn't really a tragedy in that none of the milk was lost, as it had frozen into an almost solid lump overnight! The only 'tragedy' was that we had to wait a bit for our cereal. Of course years later we teased our parents that we should have called CAS, but I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.