Scientists Move Closer to Unlocking the Secrets of the Immortal Jellyfish, and Possibly Human Aging—Wall Street Journal headline, Aug. 29.

For the record, I believe in the science of progress. I believe in the wonder of refrigeration, electricity and antibiotics, and whatever it is they put inside those margarita cans you can buy on an airplane for $8.

But I’m not sure I am ready to be immortal.

No offense to any of my immortal jellyfish subscribers—I appreciate your loyal readership. But my fellow humans need to think long and hard about the tantalizing secrets they’re excavating from your briny bodies.

Life extension? I get the appeal. What human wouldn’t want a few more healthy years? Who wouldn’t want to get a little more precious time with family, friends, favorite pets and, of course, our beloved smartphones?

It’s why people quit smoking, cut back on red meat, and stop watching cable news. Everyone deserves a chance to blow out 100 candles, or start playing pickleball.

But forever? We ought to think this through.

There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. We’ve learned it with alcohol, sunshine and build-your-own sundaes. By the second week of a Maine vacation, we’re climbing the ceiling. Another canoe trip? Isn’t there a movie on TV?

What if it’s not even forever? Does anyone really want to live for another 1,000 years? After the first 500 years or so, you’ve probably tried every restaurant you’ve ever wanted to go to, even that sad one around the corner that never seems to have anyone inside.

You’ve driven to all 50 states. You’ve visited the Grand Canyon 400 times. You’ve spent a weekend in Big Sur, Marfa, Niagara Falls, the Everglades and a Laguardia Airport Marriott. You’ve finally returned that telephone call from your brother. You’ve organized more than half of the garage—and there’s absolutely no way you’re doing the other half.

I bet life starts to feel redundant, and monotonous. How many times can you watch “The Sopranos” straight through? How often can you visit Paris? How often can you catch that same 3 lb. bass? What are the costs here? How much do you wind up spending on shampoo and toothpaste? Is a 401k going to cut it? Do you have any idea how much cereal you go through?

Think of all the weddings an immortal person gets invited to. Think of all the toasts you’d have to listen to, all the conversations you’d have to have about hors d’oeuvres. Think of how many spam calls you’d get telling you your car’s warranty is about to expire. I bet you would start to take those spam calls, just to talk to the robot voice.

Why yes, I do want to hear more about my car’s warranty, Mr. Robot…

Why do you think vampires seem so agitated and hungry? Immortality seems mildly overrated, like hiking, and Notre Dame football.

I’m not saying there aren’t upsides. Immortality means you’d finally have the time to paint your own house. You’d finally perfect how to cook corn on a grill. You’d learn how to garden and build a table, and you’d read all that Faulkner you blew off in 11th grade. You might not write the Great American Novel, but could get good at golf. You may see the Seattle Mariners make the World Series. Or at least the playoffs.

Life is still life, however. There’s only so much an imperfect human being can do. I may get around to organizing the other half of the garage, and I’d be thrilled to perfect corn on the grill. But I’ll never get good at golf. I don’t care if they give me immortality, plus another million years.