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I have that affliction.
It's so satisfying when I dump a can of screws or bolts on the bench and find what I need.

A Man Can Have Ten Thousand Screws And Will Always Be One Short...

I remember being mesmerized by those shelves in the garage as a kid. Then, you realize that shit just piles up when you decide to start doing a moderate number of things yourself. It doesn't take long at all especially when it's so satisfying to buy a brand new box of nails/screws. Whatever "the thing" is that women get on impulse when shopping, fasteners and drill bits are that thing for me. "What have you done with your life?" "I'll never not be able to join two boards together, so fuck you."

David Sparks had a few more.

I think my Dad would be proud of where I am.

I have a mini drawer set and I like to keep my screws mostly sorted. In addition to that, I have three large plastic bottles (with lids) what have assorted screws and such.

Oh, and I own two houses, Dad. TWO. And they're in better shape than the ONE house you owned when you were my age. Oh, and I'M STILL LIVING IN THE SAME HOUSE AS MY WIFE, Dad. Oh, AND I'M NOT A FUCKING ALCOHOLIC DRINKING 32 OUNCES OF STRAIGHT GIN EVERY NIGHT, Dad.

Granted, I'm not a top-tier attorney, but I do have a rewarding career (which provides plenty of money), AND I ACTUALLY INTERACT WITH MY KIDS ON THEIR LEVEL, Dad.

So yeah. I've got the fucking screws, Dad. And I have MORE TOOLS THAN YOU HAD. And I have... Well, never mind. Let's just say I'm WAY more prepared than you ever were.

I hope you're doing well, wherever you wound up. It's been 7 years and I still celebrate your birthday. And I'll be making a shashlik in your honor this summer (using the same shampre you had made when I was a kid).

Damn I wish you hadn't been such an alcoholic. I still remember trying to talk with you when I was a little little kid and being so confused at how you spoke back to me. For a while it was something of a wondrous mystery. But I soon learned it was just booze. You were too smart for your own good and self-medicated and then got weak and fell in to the trap.

Well, I'm not weak, Dad. And I have the screws. And the tools. And two kids. And the Wife. And ... all the other stuff.

And you might have enjoyed my truck. Man I wish you could ride in my truck.

I can only assume that, since your Dad has not passed down these 30 can of screws to his son, that he is still alive.

That being said, if perhaps you two are estranged and he has chosen NOT to bequeath his screws to you, where might these 30 cans of screws be? Are they still available?

I had one can of screws, I threw them away.

Then a few weeks later, I needed a spare screw... but I had none, had to buy a box. I'll never do that again.