Once upon a time, the cat was bored. As bored cats do, she demanded that her people play with her, and relieve the ennui of being a house-bound cat.
So her people started making boxes, and putting things in them. The trouble with humans is, they didn't stop putting things in boxes when she'd had enough of it. But she adapted, and decided that as long as they'd understood one demand, they could understand another, and upped the demands to go outside and kill the birds in the windows.
They let her out. But it was in a cat cage, and it was only to go to the vet. After getting a rabies vaccination, she decided she wanted nothing to do with outside anymore.
But the people, they're kinda stupid and slow about learning when to stop. And when they'd put everything in the whole house in boxes, they took her out again, and put her in the car, for hours upon hours upon hours. At the end of the day, they hadn't gone back to the house, either: they put her in a new place, with lots of strange smells. It was scary, but she had her people.
After a couple days of this, they came to a new house, with a new person, and she had her whole huge litterbox back instead of the travel stopgap. Life was good, and there were lots of new things to explore, and couches to climb, and beds to sleep on...
And then, before she could get bored, they picked her up again, drove a ways, and plunked her in a brand new house, with familiar furniture and all the boxes. She's decided boxes are the cause of traumatic change, and wants to be anywhere else when one of her people start opening them.
But time went by, and other than the forbidden garage where boxes still lurk, the house was almost unpacked, and back to normal. A cat could get used to this...
And then the people moved the living room furniture. She gave them the dirtiest looks she had ever learned, and swore a bit. Enough change! Stop that!