When I first moved into this brand new apartment 52 years ago, I was so happy and excited. That ended when my neighbor upstairs, a short young lady with two small children moved in. She was a nurse and maybe her hours kept her up late, but she walked the floor like a 300 pound man. Our floors were tile. She and her children made such a ruckus that I seriously considered moving. One night I was sleeping and was startled out of my sleep by what sounded like a giant box filled with books being slammed on the floor. I complained to the board but they did nothing about it. One suggestion from friends was to call the police, but I didn't want to do that.
When I went looking for apartments, I realized I'd be paying much more for a lot less. My father suggested I move to a new development that had just gone up. I'm SO glad I didn't. I didn't like the area then; now it's in the heart of one of the worst areas in town. Since I was "poor girl" back then, I just stayed put because our mortgage/carrying charges (HOAs) were and still are a mere fraction of housing elsewhere.
Blessedly, she finally moved out. My new neighbors had two sons about the same age as mine. I hardly ever heard a peep out of them. The husband has died, her sons are grown and on their own, of course, and to this day I'm still gtateful to my neighbor-friend for saving my sanity.