Weed (Me or Them?)

As usual my one hour quick brush-up of the terrace 'just clearing up the wind-blown winter leaves' became a six hour 'must emptying these pots and upgrading their soil, divide/re-pot these plants and pull all these weeds.' So much for 'pacing' myself. Why do I never know when to stop?
While we've been sitting by the fire, during minus 10 degree winter evenings, the weeds have been thriving. Respect due and all that for their perseverance and survival stratagies but I still hate weeding. Tired and aching, now.