Po Shows Up Right After I Buy Weed.

I'd like to start off by saying I know I'm an idiot for even smoking in the first place. And this is probably gonna be long.  I'm on parole for some misdemeanors, the worst one being a 2nd offense OWI (gotta love Iowa). I'm on parole because they sent me to prison for 5 weeks before deciding I'm more appropriate for an OWI program at the halfway house where I'm from, which I completed 2 months ago.
 
That being said I usually only smoke right after I see my PO, like the day of or the next day then abstain (or substitute I guess, to be politically correct).until the next time. I haven't seen my PO in longer than usual cause she's been out of town or something and its been a while since I smoked. She lives more than an hour away and is only in town once every other week, so I didn't think she'd bother with all this.  I've got a week (or did have a week, as of yesterday when this happened) until I see her again and I have hardly any body fat so I can get away with smoking one time and dropping clean 2-3 days later.
 
I'm not gonna type up my whole day cause that would be boring and pointless so i'll just say my mom and I had errands to run in an adjacent city, where my dealer lives. I technically met this new dealer through my mom so obviously it's not a secret to her that I smoke. As a matter of fact I asked her to lend me the $20 for a gram until today, which is my payday.
 
So we get there, we're sitting around bullshitting and whatnot and my dealer and I smoke a bowl of a strain I'd never heard of called Snowcap, except he said it was Organic-Something-Something-Snowcap. I guess I live a sheltered life, I dunno. So I got a gram of something else, chilled for a little while and we headed home.
 
I help bring the groceries in, changed into some comfortable clothes, lit an incense which burned out within minutes, and loaded a bowl. I took 1 or 2 hits and was kinda just standing around wondering if i should go outside and smoke a cigarette when the doorbell rings. I'm kinda confused cause the only person that ever comes to my house is my friend, who's busy out of town all week. Naturally, "Fuck I hope it's not the cops" did cross my mind, even if it was for half a second. Worse. It's my parole officer who I'll refer to as J, and the county 'investigator' who I'll refer to as Turd.
 
We have a dog kennel in front of our front door so everyone comes in through the side door. This at least bought me a few seconds to alert my mom to what was going on. (After all this she told me she was about to ask me for a hit right as they showed up.) I'm frantically trying to tell her to go hide my shit, and she's saying "I will, I will." The part I didn't hear her say was "I don't know where it is." My pipe, weed, and lighter, were all on top of my dresser, which is the first thing you see when you walk into my room, in plain view.
 
I let them in and I'm trying to be all calm but inside I'm having a panic attack. I thought at the very least she was going to give me a drug test since she has yet to give me my first one. It made sense since she brought a male investigator, so he could watch my penis while I piss. My body temperature rises about 10 degrees, I'm shaky and feel like I'm gonna pass out but I maintained my composure. Still I knew Turd could tell I was nervous and was suspicious of me. I have hair well past my shoulders and was wearing a Deadmau5 t-shirt with basketball shorts. It's not too hard to figure out that I smoke weed. As you're about to find out, Detective Turd isn't very good at detecting anything at all.
 
J explains that they're here to do a home check, which is where they scope things out and make sure you're not doing anything you're not supposed to. I've been doing a lot of things I'm not supposed to and haven't been very cautious about it. She has me put the dogs away cause she's allergic or doesn't like dogs or some shit. I guess I was already high enough to forget the dog's name. Strike 1.
 
She asks to look in the fridge, fine. I haven't been drinking lately because of some stomach problems anyway. By now my mom's upstairs and she's clearly just as nervous as I am; her face is red and I can see sweat on her forehead. Luckily she's pretty good at making small talk in order to distract people and avoid things. I'm leaning on the kitchen table and my arm's wobbling so I decide to just sit on the edge of it. i try talking about crap I would normally talk about at an appointment - employment, etc. Surprisingly, unlike at all my appointments, she doesn't ask if I've relapsed.
 
Next they wanna see my room. Great. That's the one room I don't want them to see. My room's right at the bottom at a short flight of stairs in what I guess would be called the upper level of the basement. My bed's still upstairs in what was supposed to be my sister's room so I have two couches across from each other, a desk with my laptop on it  My desktop background doesn't suggest that I'm a drug-free saint; http://i40.tinypic.com/slkv86.jpg
 
I walk down the stairs with J and Turd a few feet behind me. That's when I see that my mom didn't hide anything, at all. I go straight to my dresser and grab my pipe, weed, and lighter in one swift motion so I've got my weed and pipe clenched in one fist and my lighter in the other. I turn around to face them while I explain that this is supposed to be my room but since the bed's still upstairs that's where I sleep. They were literally no more than 3 feet away from me, face to face, with Turd shining a flashlight in my face while I'm holding their evidence in my hands. On top of that, right on the other side of my pull-out couch is an end table, where I had the following items on display because I'm a procrastinator:
 

• One pipe
• One razor blade from my grandmother's (R.I.P.) cocaine days
• One metal tooter (again from my grandmother's cocaine days) complete with visible traces of another unmentionable (rhymes with whore teen)
• A metal bowl-type piece for a pipe
• My dugout, excluding the one hitter I can't find
• One empty, labeless pill bottle with resin on the inside of the lid
• 3 film canisters: one empty, one labeled "Fresh Screens" and a shredded capsule shell inside, and another labeled "seeds", half full of seeds. Grandma again.

This next part may be what saved my ass. Not a second too late, my mom decides she needs to "see what size my pull-out mattress is". It's an odd thing to do in such a situation but at this point it was the smartest thing she could've done, as this blocked their view of my table and the path that leads to it. I use this as an opportunity to pretend to help her check for the size then turned to my computer to buy me more time. My computer chair is a recliner so it was able to block their view of my whole left arm, holding weed and pipe. I leaned down to put my computer on sleep mode while I tried to stuff everything into the seat cushion without the plastic bag making any noise. It did, but they didn't hear it. Not surprising considering they're both clearly blind and have no sense of smell.
 
Fortunately that's all they wanted to see of my room. I showed them the upstairs bedroom where I sleep. Turd shined his flashlight directly into my eyes (which are already dilated 75% of the time, even when I've been sober for weeks) and stared at me suspiciously. The last thing they wanted to see was the garage, which I remembered as I was walking them to the door has at least 3 empty 18-packs. I told J they were from my mom, that her and a couple of her friend's drank once a while ago. It was definitely too much for 3 people to drink in one night and I actually drank at least 60% of them. My mom came out and said she thought they were from her mom, when I had just told them 3 minutes earlier that my grandma was dead. Besides I'm pretty sure my PO already knew that. I was internally facepalming myself but they didn't catch onto that either.
 
After that we talked briefly for another couple minutes and they were both on their way. No drug test. Not even a mouth swab. Needless to say I'm going to be a little more discreet about the things I do in my free time, and probably laying off the THC altogether for a while.
 
I don't know if it was luck or fate, but something was definitely watching my back yesterday. And thank God for my mom because if she hadn't been home or aware of what I was up to, I wouldn't be typing this.
 
The end. Thanks for reading.