If there is ever a snake in my house, we will have to move. PERIOD.
Which explains why my wife would not even consider moving to Florida. I was suprised that he got in, (the garden snake in 1989, not this guy). It had a poured concrete foundation in good repair and no obvious gaps in any of the doors or windows. We had looked at a much older house with field stone basement and no motar, basically a rubble pile. You would more or less expect snakes in there as a matter of course.
The cat used to bring in her trophies for me. Once though, the trophy was alive. It was writhing and twisting all around her. She dumped it in the middle of the living room. Since I don't keep hoes in the house, I did debate on the shot gun but decided that wasn't a good idea. He (or she, I didn't take the time to look and didn't bother to check the eyes) met the the bottom of my old cast iron skillet a few times. I scooped it up in the skillet and left it outside the door for hubby to despose of. The cat immediately became a inside cat (I can hardly type for her, lol). Years ago, we went out to the old farm place. It had been a long drive out there so first thing mother ran to the bathroom. She ran back out screaming there was a snake in the toilet. We went in there but didn't see anything. It was an old toilet so was all rusty in the bottom and the floor was shaky with everyone walking around so it must have been the light reflecting on the wiggly water. She kept on and on about it so grandpa poured some gas in it (gas was his solution for everything). Mother still kept going on and on so I went in and made myself comfortable on the floor and propped my head on the seat to watch. All kinds of nasty started bubbling up so I stuck my head in further and WOOSH! Here he came! Hit me in the forehead! I was outta there in a split second and on the living room coffee table. Mother was on the couch. Grandpa was in the kitchen yelling, "Someone shut the door!" Mother, who is miss prim and proper, yelled back, "You shut the ^%#%^ door, @#^&$$!!" The old house had settled so much over the years, and I don't think the door ever fit, but there was a 5 inch gap so when he finally got the door shut the danged thing keep coming out. It was 6 feet long and fat (must have been female, huh). It was going crazy from the gas and was climbing the walls and falling from the ceiling, then back across to the door and into the hall and points beyond. Grandpa finally got the hoe and that was that. I don't think mother every went to the potty there ever again. Another time, I was out at the old farm place. I was leaving and had an arm load of wire clothes hangers. A storm was blowing up so I was trying to get out fast. No one lived there so I was trying to get the old skeleton key to turn and get the padlock on and all the while the wind was blowing my hair in my face and trying to knock the hangers down and I was fighting with the screen door that kept blowing against me. I kept kicking the screen door back but it somehow got caught on my jeans leg. Finally, I got the locks done and was bending down to unhook the screen from my leg. It wasn't the screen. It was a racer! First cousin of the one in the bathroom and just as big. He (or she - again, I didn't take the time to investigate) had done a figure eight around my legs!!! I don't know how but one second I was on the porch and a millisecond later I was outside the gate and in the turnaround. I hadn't dropped a single hanger. If I had, it'd still be there. When I was little, I was shelling peas on the porch and mooing to the cows. Nice sunny warm day. Not a care in the world until I looked up face to face with a rattlesnake. Peas went everywhere. Granny wasn't pleased - 1) my screams scared the thing off so she couldn't kill it and 2) no peas for dinner. Then there was my current house (the cat and the living room house) when we pulled into the garage. As I was getting out, I nearly stepped on a snake. I ran screaming into the house and slammed the door. Problem was, I'd left my child out there. That time I did check to see that it wasn't poisonous but still ran. Hubby grabbed the hoe that was the end of that one. Kiddo was ok. Did that give you enough "snake in the house" stories to get you moved? LOL! Sorry, couldn't resist. Oh, then there was the time I was walking down the dark hallway and stepped on something that went, "squeak"... ok, I'll stop, lol.