Living in cardboard box hell

So basically this is the idea of what we've been living in over the last couple of weeks. If you know me at all, you can feel my dread and panic due to this nonsense. If you don't know me, imagine an organizational, borderline OCD clean freak in a hoarder's house. Getting the idea? Sparky (not my husband's name, but how I will refer to him from now on- another story for another time) kept saying "it's not too much longer". Easy to say when you're not the one in the middle of a minor panic attack because you can feel the boxes closing in on you. But the new company paid for movers which made the process much easier...right?? Yes, well we'll compare blissful tales of amazingness when you're digging through a cardboard box for your deodorant okay? Daily use-that's all I'm sayin. Anyway, it's fine. I found it, in case you are wondering. Made Sparky find my hairdryer though.
Additionally, after the movers were gone, all of the ugly, dirtiness was left behind. Who knew? Ugh! At one point my hubs told me to "avert my eyes" because he knew I would freak out at the dog hair that was hidden under our dresser. He may or may not kill me in the future when I make him move the furniture every time I clean. It's all good. We're officially out of the house now and back at my mom's. Although, if you saw my car you might think we're living out of that. I've been telling everyone I know "Don't move. Ever." But, okay, the reality is I think it would be fine if we had another house to take all the stuff to. We don't. Therefore, I live in cardboard box hell. Brace yourself now, I'm about to get positive- I'm hoping we find the most perfect house there ever was this weekend and don't have to be up in the air too much longer. Pray for me, Argentina.