My life in cardboard boxes

So I am moving house. Again. I only had to move about four times in the past three years. Not funny. Not good. So I have to put all my life in cardboard boxes, yes again, and move.
So far I have moved countries, then towns, now counties.
As I am typing this, half of my life is already packed, filled boxes already stacked up in one corner of the living room, and the rest of my flat looks, oh well, a bit like a bombsite.
I wonder if I will ever find a permanent place that I can call Home. With no flattened cardboard boxes lurching in the cupboard under the stairs ('ready for next time') and no nagging feeling that everything is unstable and temporary. But that perhaps, is in another life... happy days.