10:03 a.m. Subject's vehicle is not present at residence. The building is a brick row house with a secured key entrance. There is a mail slot along the side. A window on the second floor is cracked and a few strips of electrical tape are bandaging it up.
This is a one way street full of broken down row houses. There is an old man a couple of houses down sitting in a folding chair on the front porch. He doesn't seem to be doing anything other than chewing on a toothpick and watching traffic. I wonder if he does this every day.
I sent Hummer in with the nekked artist today. I compromised and let him be fully clothed, however. I don't know why I'm so nice to him. He tried to sabbatage me in his report last night. I guess he was mad that I forced him to mark the tires on Subject's vehicle yesterday and then *gasp!* made him get out of his vehicle to check out her backyard for activity. So in his report he described all I'd asked him to do and wrote something to the tune of, "Despite trespassing on private property and risking being observed by Subject, no activity was discovered."
After stomping my feet and sticking my tongue out at the computer screen, I took that portion out of his report and wrote him a scathing email about not using professional reports as his personal journal or a forum for venting his frustrations. We, as a rule, don't indicate to a client how we get our information. Generally speaking, they don't want to know. Don't ask, don't tell kinda deal... I sent the whole thing back to him to redo and told him that since he's been with the company longer than I have he should know how to write reports by now.
On a happier note, I have observed no less than three drug deals so far today. My plans for this afternoon are to get mugged, eat lunch at Arby's and go to the dentist.