Will's Drawers

Margaret and I were washing dishes one one afternoon. I washed, she rinsed the plates, dried, and put them away. I handed her a sudsy pair of strangely twisted plastic claws. She rinsed them, twisted the towel into a point and swabbed down the "fingers". Then she opened a drawer and started to drop them in.
"No! Not there. That's not where they go." I said to her, reaching for the claws.
"Why not?" she asked, waving the claws vaguely at the drawer.
"Because that's the silverware drawer. Flatware, actually. We don't have any silver, except Jessie's spoon collection." I replied. Margaret turned to open the next drawer over. She looked at me and down into the drawer. There was a rolling pin, some measuring cups and spoons, four different forms of thermometers, a wooden tray for holding yet another rolling pin, and a strange, round piece of white plastic with dozens of small square holes punched in it. Margaret started to drop the claws into the mix.
"No! Not in there either. I have a system, Margaret. I like everything in it's place. You're going to make it all higgledy piggledy."
"Hah! You have a system? It's chaos in here! I can never find anything in this kitchen!" She was waving the claws at the cabinets and drawers around the room.
"I have a system," I said, quietly, wanting to be the more mature of the two. I was older."Everything is set up in terms of how they are used. Flatware drawer has flatware. The towel drawer has hand towels..." Margaret pointed to the drawer with the rolling pins. "... and that is the mostly baking drawer." I finished.
"What? Mostly baking? What the hell kind of classification is that? Mostly baking!" she huffed. "Why is it only 'mostly baking'?"
"Because we use two of the thermometers for cooking meat and making soap. They have dual uses, so it's 'mostly' baking." I nodded my head and smiled, knowing I had proven my point beyond doubt. I had a system.
"Alright, fine, Mr. System. Where do these go?" She offered me the claws and I turned to a drawer across the room. Opening it I said, "These go in the funny tool drawer." She staggered backwards with wide eyes, making funny noises in her throat, apparently finding it hard to speak.
"Funny tool? Oh do tell me more!" She slumped to the floor, but I stayed on course. I reached into the drawer in question.
"This is a funny tool that cores apples. It's a very funny looking tool. And this tool, " I said, holding up a French curve shaped plastic thingy, "is for measuring pasta portions and serving spaghetti, only it doesn't do that very well. This drawer is for all the funny shaped tools we have that don't fit any other category. That's why they're away from the others. Reduces conflict." Margaret stood up, staring in disbelief.
"You're a madman, you've lost it. I'm, no, we're going to have you committed!" As she turned away to get a rope to tie me up with, Jessie approached. Margaret grabbed her by the arm. "Ah ha! I'll prove it! Jess! Where would these things go in the kitchen?" She held up the white plastic claws. Jess looked briefly at them and pointed across the room.
"In the funny tool drawer." Margaret emitted a silent scream.
"You've warped your own daughter!" She staggered back against the drawer for "things with plastic handles".

So now Margaret knows how to find things in the kitchen. She asks Jess. Once I found her in the middle of the kitchen, holding a stainless steel splatter screen and looking from one cabinet to another cabinet, like a squirrel in the middle of the street and a car coming on. I took it away from her and hung it on it's hook above the stove top.
"So it's close to the stove." I said.