The fundamental problem with Charleston is that it's impossible to stay in, ever. There's always a new restaurant to try, friends to see, or some 70 degree January weather to soak up.
Earlier this week we found ourselves at a new spot, The Grocery, for drinks, snacks (excluding Martin who ordered a steak), and churros (which fondly reminded me of my recent, solo, birthday in Spain). Spontaneous, unplanned weeknights always turn out to be the fun ones anyway. Case in point.